Camelot
by BamItsTyler
Summary: "There will be great presidents again but there will never be another Camelot" - Jackie Kennedy. A look into the life President Agesilaus Kane, presiding leader of post-Second Rebellion Panem, alongside his cohorts as he tries to mold Panem into a fair and just nation for all its people.
1. Prologue

**Synopsis: Panem's First Lady, Cruella Kane, gives an interview to Captiol Television.**

* * *

 **PROLOGUE - A CLEAN SLATE**

* * *

 _ **THIS IS A CAPITOL TV SPECIAL REPORT:**_

 _ **A TOUR OF THE PRESIDENTIAL MANSION AND INTERVIEW WITH FIRST LADY OF PANEM - CRUELLA KANE!**_

 ** _April, 2158 (95th HG)_**

 **[ Cruella Kane is just one of dozens of women to hold the position of Panem's "First Lady". Due to President Snow entering the office as a widow, his twenty-six year tenure was rather uneventful on the spouse portion, with an empathized focus on his daughter as she grew older. His successor, President Lucius Fox (2147-2149) and wife Regina were a welcomed sight, but their roughly three year tenure gave us little time to get fully acquainted. When President Kane was swept into office in 2149, he brought with him rapid social and economic change for the nation.]**

 **[Cruella Kane is a poised woman of sixty years. Dressed in a double breasted white suit/skirt combo with soft brown eyes, straight tresses of brunette hair complemented with slight wrinkles, First Lady Kane brings to the presidency a clean slate and a new era of political convention within our nation. Like many Capitol socialites, she has a very posh way of accentuating her speech.]**

Clear= First Lady Kane

 **Bold=** Hermes Lancaster, interviewer.

* * *

 **Which room was this again?**

This would be the President's Library. During the days of President Snow, he would most often use it as a study. I would assume that all Presidents before him utilized this room _just_ the same! Agesilaus loves using this room, with him being an avid reader and all. Besides the national archives, one could find a wide array of pre-Panemian literature within the Presidential Mansion. Like many people nowadays, Agesilaus adores old world materials. I absolutely dread having to march down here to drag him to bed now and then. **[ She motions to the corridor just outside of this room.]** You see that room outside there? That's the Public Address room, most famously known for President Trump's invitation for those who survived the nuclear fire to join our economic movement, President Joni Ernst' yearn for togetherness* . . . Fast forward to President Snow's _'banning of the mockingjay_ ' speech, so on and so forth.

This mansion holds a lot of history . . . I could only imagine how difficult it must've been during the first years of our country.

 **I agree, three whole nations dissolving into one North American Union. What about the First Lady? Surely you have a place in which you call your own, right?**

 **[The woman grins, motioning me through pristine corridors and discreet bodyguards until we enter what appears to be another study. This space has obviously seen a woman's touch, with its pink walls, white accents and gold furniture. She motions for us to sit, so we do. She pours us each a cup of tea.]**

This would be the First Lady's study. This is one of the many places within this mansion in which I would call it 'my own'. Every first lady from Melania Trump, First Gentleman Gail Ernst to me has utilized this room. Taking a look at archival footage and photographs, I really enjoyed Melania's furniture tastes. The gold furniture she acquired from the pre-war White House complements my selection of pink for the walls. It's amazing how old most of the furniture in this room is.

Since my work started when Agesilaus was sworn in, I've gotten tons and tons of letters from across the nation. I assume you could imagine the amount of work my office goes through. We have so many people with so many concerns but so little time to sort through them all.

 **You've gotten letters from citizens in the Districts? What do they ask you for?**

Oh yes, I get them from Capitolites and District citizens alike. From those in the Capitol it's fairly typical, many academies would love for me to be a patron and attend their galas. Many organizations like the Planned Parenthood committees and the Community Home advocacy groups are always eager for my attendance and support.

Getting letters from citizens within the Districts are always heartwarming, and saddening at the same time. Some letters would be from a secondary school in District 11 asking me to ask the president to see if they could get more sporting equipment because other schools in more affluent areas have them but they don't. A young man of fourteen years in District 12 asked if the government could make it so that he could work more in the mines to help support his family. A lot of letters are about supporting ones family and them not having the means to do it due to government bureaucracy.

 **[She shakes her head in apparent disgust, sipping her tea.]** You know what else I get? In some areas of some Districts, girls don't even have access to _sanitary napkins_. Could you imagine that? I just find it a tad off that girls have to go through life without the basics while we in the Capitol and well off areas within the Districts- _which are few_ \- have everything we need. It saddens me to see letters like that. The nuclear war that brought Panem together is over, the Dark Days were almost a century ago and the Second Rebellion ended a decade ago.

We need to start moving on as a country.

 **. . . And it seems we have begun moving on. The Districts now have 'Governors'; areas within the District now have 'Mayors'. Cars are becoming more prevalent, highways are being developed, and houses are being made so on and so forth . . .**

Yes, you're correct! We have my husband and his colleagues to thank for the progress we've endured post Mockingjay Rebellion.

 **Speaking about that . . . as you may know, many people have criticized your husband as well as yourself in regards to your policies when it comes to the Districts. They say you're too lenient with them, what's your take on the Capitol-District relationship?**

Criticized? Criticized for what, having some _semblance_ of equality and opportunity for those who keep the nation afloat? We can't just keep our citizenry locked up in communal factories and urban slums. We have to spread out, reclaim our cities of old so on and so forth. My husband is giving the people of this nation what they've wanted for quite some time . . . some opportunities for them and their children.

 **[She raises her hand as I begin to interject.]** _Listen_ , the rebels of the Dark Days have died out. The Districts have bared the consequences for nearly one hundred years. We can't keep thumbing them down forever. We're one big _Pan American National Economic Movement. **_ One Capitol, surrounded by thirteen Districts and countless Territories.*** They each provide our nation with their designated industry, while the Capitol distributes it equally- our _horn of plenty_.

 **So I take it that you're a proponent of your husband's Hunger Games disbandment and the new proposed constitution?**

 **[ She scrounges her nose in thought. After a minute of thinking, she settles on a soft grin.]** The Hunger Games is a nearly century long tradition. I'd have to leave it up to the Senate and National Assembly to decide what's best for Panem. I'm sure many in the Districts would feel the same way no?

In terms of the constitution, it's time to return Panem to its pre-disaster state. The bureaucracy is overreaching . . . the people have no proper representation. The people need a working government not just for the few, but for everyone. My husband seems to be going in the right direction, as everyone seems smitten by the man.

 **Yes . . . he enjoys a high approval rating among the Districts more than the Capitol. How would you describe the past ten years your husband has been in office?**

 **[She sighs in reminiscence.]** You know, with all the doo-wop, the rising birth rate . . . the Districts having governors, Isla Nieve becoming more and more prominent, the elegant clothes and entertainment. Discovering the remnants of the outside world, the cars that look like jets rather than normal automobiles of the past . . .

I was looking at footage of old America, the era we seem to be emulating. A former First Lady at the time, Jacqueline Kennedy had referred to her husband's tenure as 'Camelot'. I will second that Panem will see greater days than present, of course we'll see great Presidents, but there will never again be another Camelot.

* * *

*= Contrary to popular belief, Panem hasn't always been 'corrupt'. Since its establishment in 2019, it has had a functional government and citizenry until at least the 2040's and 50's, that's when the District's became disgruntled by the preferential treatment and corruption the Capitol took on.

**= Pan American National Economic Movement, uncommonly called Pan-America and mostly now called Panem. Alongside its official moniker, the Latin phrase Panem means bread, further tying into the contribute/distribute system the nation runs on.

***= Outside of mainland North America, Panem controls many of its American territories of its past Such as Hawaii, numerous pacific islands and Cub, although the former are not officially populated and serve as staging grounds for exploration and extra resources.

* * *

 _ **So this, I'm hoping, will be a separate story into my little universe. I would've added this into my interlude, but I think it's okay standalone. I suppose that this 'story' will delve into the socio-political fabric of my 'Alternate Universe', following the defeat of the rebels in the Second Rebellion and the 'Reconstruction Era' Panem goes through. It will span from "Haus Der Toten" up until before -hopefully- next installment.**_

 _ **If you enjoy:**_

 ** _1.) Politics  
3.) Military Science Fiction  
3.) Yearn for more.. Political Hunger Games type stories._**

Then I think you'll like this. You should read my SYOT or go to "thedewynterdynasty" dot wordpress dot com to get acquainted with things.

 _ **Thank you for reading.**_

 _ **It won't take precedence over my main SYOT. The chapters for this will vary in length, really. With a few "Part 1,2,3 etc." when a chapter relates with another.**_


	2. Caught

**Synopsis: Vice-President DeWynter invites a foreign delegation to Hunger Games festivities, confronting a rival in the process.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1 - Caught.**

* * *

 **Viondra DeWynter,**  
 **Vice-President of Panem**

* * *

 ** _The DeWynter Country Club and Residence- Capitol City- 9PM, MAY 17TH, 2158_**

"Dangsin-eun Migug-ingwa gwanseub-ibnida. . . jeongmallo heungmiissneun."

Slightly inebriated, the Premier of the _People's United Democratic Republic of Korea_ giggles to herself as she sways to the music. A short white dress replacing her military tunic, the young leader slowly sways to the slow tempo of the music being played below with her eyes closed, caressing her shoulders while smiling in drunken bliss.

What would our forefathers think? Our once 'mortal' enemy, is now our mutual partner. It's an interesting concept, really. The Caliphate of Arabia, - alongside its monarch - have payed us a visit as well to discuss trade and experience our traditions first hand.

"Miss Vice-President, Supreme Leader Pok would like to express her intrigue about your customs, regardless of how _peculiar_ it may seem to her." says one of her aides as he adjusts his spectacles.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves. Once the festivities die down, I'll be sure to visit as a goodwill gesture." I say, taking a sip of wine as I eye the young leader of the Arabian Caliphate.

"How are you finding Pan-American customs, your Highness?" I inquire as Muthasim IV caresses his chin, humming along as he takes in the activity below from the balcony we're situated on.

"I see your nation is very 'liberal' in terms of recreational pastimes. It's a very interesting experience, being here that is."

I smirk. "Yes, two centuries of superstition and lapses in communication can paint misguided pictures, as you can see with certain nations clinging onto the arcane institutions of the past."

The young ruler lets out a fickle 'Meh.'. "We could care less about people's affinity for the very institutions that have led to the world as it is today. Panem has been a very beneficial partner to our caliphate, I don't see this ending anytime soon. The world has changed this century and a half, no nation has a leg to stand on when it comes to morality."

We nod in unison at this, quaffing down the remainder of our drinks. I respect the young monarch immensely. Unlike a couple dozen leaders, he understands that the world of old was if not _more_ , morally bankrupt than its remnants. Elections in which the populace knew little about its meaning, where the only thing that mattered was the colour of ones skin or their tertiary characteristics such as sexuality or religion. I've seen the archival footage. How voting was seen as a free exercise _baffles_ me. Certainly a population would need to be well versed before they had a say, no?

"When is . . . Hunger Games?" asks Pok, her accent thick and voice bubbly. Her voice is very unlike the brutality her title carries. It's almost bratty, nothing compared to the other leaders that remain on this earth.

"Tomorrow Premier Pok," I smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I understand your technicians are itching to replicate our formula for your _own_ games."

A wolfish grin appears on Pok's youthful face as she whispers to an aide, who clears his throat in anticipation.

"Um yes, Supreme Leader Pok very much looks forward to implicating this method of punishment to her many dissenters. _However_ , she is much more concerned with the rise of General Wei Feng in one of her southern prefectures." the aide leans his ear into the mouth of Pok as she continues to whisper.

"She would _immensely_ appreciate Panem's aid in quelling the rogue general."

I'm about to offer a remedy when I see Gideon exit among the crowd below. Adjusting his tuxedo, he glances my way and offers a curt nod, before drifting back over towards Celosia of District 7.

"Hold that thought Mister Hyung, I'll be _right_ back."

* * *

 ** _The Pavilion, Sub-level 3 - 930 PM_**

Entering the pavilion- grass, moisture and another _pungent_ scent wafts from out of the exhibit as I take off my heels and unclasp my hose from my suspenders. After stuffing my hose into my heels, I leave them at the entrance and saunter further into the sauna-like room.

"Ooooh Marrrrrs, Jupiterrrrrrrr, come to _mama_!"

Before my sentence was finished, their familiar cackles emit from the den as the two striped hyenas rush out and gallop around my feet with frenzied joy akin to your common dog. They don't paw at my dress, as their muttation process increased their intelligence twofold. Gifts from the President Van de Kamp of South West Africa, my boy and girl have been the _talk of the town_ ever since I've brought them back.

I ruffle their ears, kissing each of their snouts as they roll on their backs and expose their stomachs. "Uh-oh, it seems you've made a widdle mwess with your _snackie_ , _awh_!" I coo, noticing the crimson tinge in their fur near their mouths.

" _Alright_ , go wash off in the pond my darlings, go on!" they cackle in reply, play-fighting with one another as they dive into the body of water with a loud splash. I begin to follow the blood trail that leads off to the observation windows.

Okay . . . my babies had to have left _some_ sort of remainder of our little _snitch_.

I look at the pool of blood and tattered fabric that stains the foliage around the corner of the exhibit, the silhouette of the man's body imprinted against the glass symbolizing his futile attempts to seek aid from my lovelies. I can't help but scoff and cover my nose at the smell of gore, further intensified by the heat that the exhibit emits.

Casting my gaze downward, I smile as I find _just_ what I was looking for.

"Poor Thames," I tut to no one in particular, "You'd think after two civil wars, people of his mindset would few and far between."

I whistle out a simple tune, my grin threatening to fall off my face as I hear the flapping of wings and the squawk that accompanies it.

* * *

 ** _Vice-Presidential COMMS Room- 9:45 PM_**

 _"Confirmation response: Omega-Nine-Four-Gamma-Banshee."_

Pok and I almost burst out in laughter as Matthews groggily answers the transmission. "Vernon, are you there my friend?"

"Not _quite_."

If only I had a camera to capture the way his face dropped a shade of colour as I plopped into the seat before him, my pet jabberjay Siren perched on my shoulder. His eyes widen in shock as I plop a bloodied arm on the boardroom table.

"Ha ha ha, you Americans are very . . . through. I like that. " cheers Pok, examining the stump with a pencil.

"POK!" he exclaims, rising out of his chair, "Who, what, wh-"

"Thank you Siren, you've been great." I mew, feeding him a kernel of corn as he flaps away while I turn my attention back to Matthews. "They were _quite_ thorough in their mauling. I'm surprised I managed to find an _arm_ rather than a piece of flesh . . ."

The Australian president's cybernetic eye flares red. "You _barbarians,_ now you wonder why w-"

A raise of the hand silences him instantly. "To be quite frank, I don't want to hear a speech about democracy, especially from a foreigner. You _do know,_ espionage is an act of _war_?" I muse, folding a leg over my knee as I lean forward. "Maybe we should make an example out of you like we've done other aggressors?"

The man scoffs, laughing a dry laugh. "You wouldn't DA-"

"Of course I would. We would raze your lands _tenfold_." I say, beaming towards the man as I rise out of my seat and begin to pace throughout the room. " _First_ , I think we'll start with your spies you sent here. All _one hundred_ of them meeting the same fate Thames did."

Astonished and at a loss of words, he continues to watch me pace as I turn back towards him. "If you do that, we'll be forced to retaliate."

"Retaliate against what? Panem defending its sovereignty by a nation infatuated by archaic ideals no one else left on this planet seems to care about?" I shrug. "President Anheuser and the rest of the council of nations would understand, surely."

If looks could kill, his would. "Our oil rigs you _bully_ -"

"-Not anymore, we pulled away from your pathetic rigs." I interject, dismissively waving in his direction. "Listen Matthews, if it were up to me, your men and women would be returned to you in _fragments_. I have a party to preside over, so I'll make this quick."

I gesture towards Pok, who sends a smug smile his way, as he returns it with a malicious glare. "Supreme Leader Pok has some disputes with a rogue general by the name of Wei Feng, in control of the eastern coastline- mostly the ruins of Shanghai and Hangzhou. Her forces are stretched thin, however. If you, alongside her forces and a contingent of ours aide her taking back said region, Pok will kindly allow the Australian Confederation to regain said territory."

Matthews ponders this, his features no longer fuming with anger, but now subdued. "No strings? What of my men and women captured by you?"

I shake my head. "No strings, other than needing to finalize things on my end. We'll postpone the execution of your men when everything is said and done."

He remains silent for moment or two, contemplating further action. Judging by the look on his face, its not an offer he's looking to pass up. "Okay. I'll have to relay this information with _my_ end to finalize."

"Splendid. If we catch your kind snooping around in our territory again, we'll be sure to televise their end directly to you."

"Bye bye, Australian!" Pok sarcastically waves towards the monitor as I close down the comms channel with a wave, just as the man was about to say more.

"I enjoy your negotiation style, Miss Vice-President." bows Hyung as he adjusts his glasses.

"Thank you for the compliment, Hyung." I smile, gesturing the Premier, her chief aide, and the rest of her entourage out the room. "You have to explain to us your fashion sense, I'm sure we in Pan-America would love to learn a thing or two about your customs. We're a _very_ open people."


	3. Tullianum

_**A/N:**_ I might have not been clear when I made my authors note in the first chapter of this spin-off fiction. This coincides with a complementary fiction (Is that what you call it?) by TitanicX called **_'Future's Rebirth'_**. Kindly go check it out if you like this type of 'Fiction'. They have taken their time to write a fiction based on my SYOT that I currently write, which I'm extremely thankful for.

This fiction will deal with that rivalry as written in that fiction, for a couple chapters or two. Then, once that is wrapped up, I will be taking a more 'domestic' approach like I did in this chapter. President Kane's family life, struggles with his own government and life after the failed 'Mockingjay Rebellion'.

Hopefully that makes sense, as I'm not sure if I was clear in the beginning!

 _ **Synopsis:**_ Slight insight into Panem's prison system, some insight into Kane's family while the Games are in full swing.

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER 2- THE TULLIANUM**_

* * *

 _ **Agesilaus Kane**_  
 _ **President of Panem**_

* * *

 **The Presidential Mansion, Downtown Sector, Capitol City, May 18th, 2158 (95th HG)- 3:00 PM**

 **THE CAPTIOL POST**

 **"DISTRICT 4 INNKEEPER KILLED IN APPARENT EXPLOSION!"**

 _Peacekeepers were called to the scene last night as Shoreside Inn – a popular hangout location for off duty sailors and visiting Capitolites alike, was found ablaze by tourists returning from the nearby Pearl Beach. Among the casualties was Shoreside Inn owner Hadrianus Phelps, alongside close friends who will remain unidentified as per the request of the families. It can be said however, that all twenty casualties were rebel combatants during the Mockingjay War only a decade prior._

 _Peacekeeper Detective Lieutenant Caspian Fox says the probable cause of the fire was most likely faulty wiring or damaged furnace. Foul play seems to be unlikely with this specific case. Anyone with any probable information is asked that they call the local Peacekeeper garrison._

 ** _"HEAD GAMEMAKER THAMES HYPERION KILLED IN APPARENT MUTTATION INCIDENT!"_**

 _Workers at the governmental facility responsible for monitoring Hunger Games related developments entered the premises in the wee hours of the morning only to find his remains in a pavilion containing beast mutts. Alcohol seems to be a contributing factor, Peacekeepers say. Read more on 'Page 3' for more details._

 _ **"HUNGER, HUNGER, HUNGER!"**_

 _Let the games begin! A live feed and in depth report on statistics, arena maps and tribute biographies can be found online at HungerGames dot PN!_

* * *

Hmph. What an _unfortunate_ accident. People ought to be more responsible when it comes to home maintenance . . .

"Grandpaaaa, Grandpaaaa!" Nina whines, sauntering past my parlor before locking eyes with me. " _There you are_! _Gosh_ , what's with you and reading newspapers all the time? There's a party going on in your own home and you're not even at it!"

I smirk at the sixteen year old girl as she plops down in my lap, grabbing the newspaper from my hands as she scans the front page. She lets out a low whistle as she focuses on the headline.

I glance at the white rose on her corsage. "Where did you get that rose darling?"

"From the presidential rose garden," she answers, shooting me a toothy smile as I regard her with a concerned look. "You don't need to worry Grandpa, I snipped it from the shortest bulb I could find." Nina says, as she continues to read.

" _Yikes_. I wouldn't want to be blown up in my own home." She frowns, setting the paper on the table beside us.

I nod, folding my reading glasses and placing them in my inner-breast pocket. "That's _just_ what I was thinking. It seems like a very unfortunate situation."

"Mhmmm," Nina hums casually, grabbing me by the hand as she tugs me out of my seat. "Now c'mon, Dad is looking for you, as are a whole bunch of other people. Did you even watch the bloodbath, Gramps!?"

I cast her playful eye roll. "But of course darling! I've been watching Hunger Games since forever you know, one _bloodbath_ missed wouldn't kill me."

"Oh _Gramps_ , all Hunger Games are different y'know." She chides, escorting me into the hallway. "The District 9 female hacked the 11 boy's legs clean off of him! I'm surprised more outliers didn't fall this time around."

We head down the stairs towards the mass of house-guests congregating in the auditorium in which the showing of the current Hunger Games is being displayed. The room is filled with soft laughter, corks being popped off of spirits and amiable conversations. It wouldn't be the Presidential Mansion without agents from the Praetorian Guard keeping a watchful eye in their uniform black tuxedo and dresses.

It's something of tradition that I've reluctantly held on to, lest I feel the wrath of salacious hit pieces against my character such as me being 'unpatriotic' and 'rebellious'. _Yes_ , because the President of Panem only wanted to attain office just to ruin his nation from the inside out. _Bollocks_ I say. All in all, I suppose the controversy is worth it in the end. At least at the end of the day, I get to settle down with the people that matter - Nina and other girls, their parents and Cruella.

They are what keep me strong in my seventy-six years of living!

"Ah Father, there you are!" says my son, Archibald, as he embraces me with a warm side hug.

"Where's my lovely wife?" I inquire.

Archie points toward the heavy oak doors where Cruella stands, laughing it up with familiar lawmakers.

"Mum is busy wooing our fellow Assemblymen and women. She always had a knack for chatting up just about anybody."

I nod with a knowing smile, embracing my daughter-in-law Josephina with a peck on the cheek.

"Agesilaus, this Hunger Games Thames cooked up are looking to be an awfully _frightful_ one. Too bad he had that accident . . . Thames was such a _good_ man." She sighed thoughtfully, clutching her hands to her chest.

I sigh, cupping my hands as I nod along. "Yes, I was quite shocked by the news. However, Gideon will be an amazing substitute. Before the war he was _quite_ the scientist for the Games."

"That man Gideon is a jack of all trades, isn't he?" quips Josephina with a soft laugh. "Scientist, Intelligence chief, chief aide to the president _AND_ an acting head gamemaker? How _DOES_ he do it?"

"Being a senator and all, I dabbled with him on multiple occasions. I believe he's a damn fine civil servant." Says Archibald as he nods toward the screens, grimacing as the female from District 7 slashes a zombie muttation with a spray of gore. The ballroom falls silent, with the occasional gasp and murmur as the undead continue their march towards the fleeing tributes.

"Five fallen tributes for a bloodbath is . . . tame at best. But at least with this twist, there will be plenty of action to substitute. I wonder how they'll do it without proper weaponry, combating those . . . _zombies_. "

I nod. "The tributes have gotten progressively smarter over the years, very tactful and cautious. I wonder how they'll suffice against our newest muttations as well." I motion towards the widescreen. "I requested that I be kept unaware of the hidden traps and mechanics this year."

"I very much like Lumina and Rafaela and her ally alongside the Careers." Chirps Nina as she shoots a bright grin our way.

I raise an eyebrow. " _Hmph_ , and here I thought you _hated_ District 12?"

Ah yes, Lumina Reiss . . . her father is an immense asset to our government's defence apparatus. I would hope that his daughter's potential demise doesn't _dampen_ his obligations. She seems like a lovely young woman.

" _Oh Grandpa_ , Lumina reminds me of mother and me. Like Miss Marceline said, she is poised and collected unlike _most_ District 12 urchins."

I smile. "What about _my_ favourite tributes?"

"Orville and Marcia somehow got out of the mouth and escaped toward the estate. I'm surprised, with them being on the youthful side of thirteen years old rather than the mature side. I love love _loved_ Joyceta Rodriquez of Snow Island, so maybe we'll get a repeat!"

"Good, good. I too enjoyed Joyceta and Francisco's joint victory." _However I immensely dislike the clamoring from the cities most perverted and immoral to make the pair 'available'._ "The younger ones always seem to have sharper minds than their older counterparts."

With smiles on our faces, we a let out a slight laugh here and there – finishing off the remainder of our drinks before settling into a comfortable silence. The silence breaks as the ballroom erupts in expressions of shock – watching on as the lad from District 7 had his brain impaled by a spear tossed by Luana of District 1.

As everyone around me lets out a roar of applause at the girl's impeccable kill, I can't help but shudder inwardly. Panem willing, there will only be five more years of this . . . _five more years_.

Thankfully, I catch the eye of my Defence Minister Regis Corrian, who casts a subtle wave my way from the grand oak doors.

"Archie, Josephina, Nina darling, please _excuse_ me. I shall be back soon."

* * *

 **TULLIANUM DETENTION FACILITY, 3:40 PM**

Patriotic, dedicated and extremely through in any task given to him, Minister Corrian and his staff serve as a vital part of our national security. Since reconstruction post-Second Rebellion, he has foiled many a plot and mopped up many an insurgent as a member of the District Intelligence Agency. To the average eye, his record would be shrouded with black ink.

"Sorry to have dragged you out of your engagement, Mr. President." Regis says, finishing off the rest of his drink. "Judging by the bloodbath and the unveiling of the mutts, the action was only just beginning."

I wave him off, clasping my hands behind my back again. "It's quite alright. It's just another year, I've seen plenty for a lifetime."

"Are you liking the concept so far?" he inquires with a raised eyebrow.

"What's the concept? Something about a group of District 13 soldiers and local Rebels being boxed into a potential arena location?"

He nods. "Pretty much, Mr. President. Official reports at the time say that they amassed to a full brigade- _two-thousand men_."

I hum, glancing out the window as the automobile swerves into the roundabout.

We disembark the limousine, ducking under an umbrella an Praetorian Guard offers as he leads us to the imposing stone building in front of us- surrounded by massive walls akin to that of an ancient medieval castle. Peacekeepers sauntered the watchtower walkways, rifles slung over their shoulders and dogs by their side. The entrance to this location took shape of a fourteen feet iron gate. Just below the giant Panemian emblem were the words- _'Quod memoria insinuat profectum'._ I believe in Latin that means _'Recollection means progress.',_ if my days as a young lad in university have taught me anything.

We're greeted by a party of Peacekeepers clad in gray leather trench coats to keep out the rain. They snap a salute to which I casually return. The lead Peacekeeper, a grizzled dark skinned lady, moves forward and pumps my hand.

"Welcome to Tullianum Detention facility, Mr. President. I am Colonel Lyanne Teale, Head Peacekeeper of this facility."

"Thank you for the reception, Colonel Teale." I smile, nodding to Peacekeepers on guard as they snap a crisp salute and begin the procedures necessary to open the imposing vault door to the detention facility.

* * *

We proceed down piped corridors and pristine white halls. The loud whirr of machines at work and the voices that issue commands over them could be heard. Personally, I have never been in this facility, not that anyone with a sound mind would ever _want_ to. Political prisoners, criminals and other dissidents of high notoriety were kept in this camp. Throughout Panem, there are many camps like this - their populations now doubled as the Second Rebellion drew to a close only ten years prior. The purpose of this excursion is to touch base with the officials of this detention facility in regards to the foreign spies we've caught operating within the districts and the Capitol. Head Gamemaker Hyperion unfortunately served as ringleader for this spy ring. The media is in uproar over the developments - coining the scandal as the 'Gregory Brown' affair, named after the District 3 whistle-blower who brought this act of espionage to our attention.

"What are the status of the _foreign_ prisoners, Colonel?"

"The prisoners are in stable condition, Mr. President. As soon as you say the word, they'll be ready for extradition back to the Australian Confederation." Lyanne says, frowning.

"Permission to speak freely, Mr. President?"

"Please Colonel, I'm all ears."

"With all due respect sir, why don't we just _kill_ them? These people are trifling as they are jealous of our nation and our achievements."

"As plausible as your proposal is, they serve as a bargaining chip - one piece of the puzzle that is the remnants of this scarred earth of ours." I say, placing a hand on her shoulder. I turn to Regis. "Speak of remnants, I assume that our forces are embarking to the South China Sea to aid in the efforts at Guangzhou?"

My National Defence Minister nods curtly. "Vice Admiral Hansen is heading up that effort with reserves in Hawaii and elsewhere if need be." I turn back as he raises a finger with a slight smack of his lips. "I'll be scheduling a meeting with the defence staff soon to further brief you."

"Good man, Regis. I look forward to that meeting." I nod, turning back to the party of Peacekeepers as I gesture further down the corridor. "Please, let us continue forward."

Colonel Teale flashes a toothless grin. "As you wish, Mr. President. Please, after you."

And so, after navigating countless halls we reach a sliding door guarded by two Peacekeepers. With a nod from the Colonel the two sentries proceed to open the door, prompting us to walk through to reveal a suspended walkway supported by steel wiring and guardrails. However, it was what was _below_ that was the most surprising. Row upon row of conveyor belts and persons clad in orange jumpsuits lined behind them. As they quickly worked away, Peacekeepers situated on extended platforms stand guard over their charges, plasma weaponry at the ready.

Teale gestures towards the row of workers. "As you can see Mr. President, the prisoners under our supervision contribute to our nations economy by distributing and producing raw materials. Bargain items like cans of food, toys among other things are what would be produced in a Tullanium facility."

"What would happen if a material from this location ends up defective?" I inquire.

She flashes us again with that smirk of hers. "I can gladly report that every item produced under our watch is scrutinized with extreme prejudice. We have multiple punishments for those who impede our production quotas."

"Ah, thank you Head Peacekeeper. Please, you may continue with your tour."

"Of course, Mr. President. If you would continue down the walkway, our foreign aliens are just ahead."

* * *

Through the opposite end of the walkway, past a dozen corridors was housed an elaborate laboratory, although what was _inside_ this ' _laboratory_ ' made the term ' _torture_ chamber' more applicable. Dozens of people were connected to steel chairs and affixed with multiple forms of restraints and wiring, as a group of technicians worked at a control panel nearby. In front of the charges were a series of holoscreens showcasing various images such as families, images of illicit communications and meetings were just a few of them.

I lean towards the two-way glass. "I assume that these are the foreign aliens we've captured?"

A series of shrieks pierce the air as the detainees writhe and convulse in agony - prompting me to jolt back in surprise.

Regis, apparently unfazed by the torture being inflicted, clears his throat. "I believe those are our detainees, yes Mr. President."

Colonel Teale steps forward. "Out of the one hundred foreign aliens, ninety of them are in stable physical condition." I wince once more as the room is painted in a light blue hue. "Out of the ten in 'unsatisfactory' condition - six foreign aliens were wounded in an attempt to escape law enforcement. Four of them suffered brain and nerve damage from ingesting nightlock pills in an attempt to commit suicide."

"I'm assuming we've done all we could to get them back to stable conditions?"

The Colonel shrugs. "The six wounded should be alright with a little rehabilitation. As for the four . . . a wheelchair and a good nurse would go a long way."

"I thought they divulged all the possible information we could extract?"

Regis offers a curt nod. " _Correct_ , but our I.O's - erm, _Intelligence Officers_ \- utilize excessive methods of mental and physical exhaustion in the form of electrical volts and tracker jacker venom." he gestures to a platform where those 'Intelligence Officers' currently work. "By the time they're exchanged with the Oceanians, there will be very little to remember about their time here in Panem."

I glance towards my National Defence Minister, "The things taken from us were mundane things correct?"

"Yes Mr. President. Things like infrastructure, way of life, lower-tier Peacekeeper organization with the highest intelligence being things like muttations and the current arena." he clears his throat, gesturing towards the control panel behind the captives.

"I believe our intelligence agents are starting up again."

Setting my attention back to the control panel, there seems to be a female agent lazing comfortably in a chair flanked by two suited men with laptops at the ready. Resembling a pin-up model in a 'Capitol Corture' magazine, she was dressed in a blouse and skirt - her hair styled in a blonde bouffant. From her ruby red lips she plucks out a cigarette, tapping it against an ashtray before flicking on a microphone.

I relent most of my control of our intelligence community to the likes of Regis, Gideon, Minister Rose or Viondra. Hailing from multiple federal departments such as National Defence, our Peacekeepers and the Ministry of Districts' Affairs - from what I hear, these agents are the best at what they do. For years they would orchestrate false riots, expose seditious individuals, and keep tabs on our Victors - even though our Victors of late have been on their best behavior.

"I _really dislike_ doing this to you." she coos with faux concern, her voice sounding like that of a pleasant narrator.

"I shall ask you again. It has come to our attention that you are indeed _not_ citizens of Panem or its surrounding territories. You are foreign aliens sent here from a foreign nation tasked with gathering intelligence. _WHERE_ is the nation that you hail from?"

A man - bruised and battered - spits out a wad of blood before leaning out of his seat.

"Listen lady," he seethes with a foreign twang in his accent. "We already told ya', we were sent from the Au-"

She scoffs, waving her hand towards the technicians. " _Again, please._ And this time, _up_ the voltage _."_

Their shrieks pierce the air as another volt of electricity courses through their bodies.

"You said this was one-hundred per cent safe, Minister Corrian?" I ask, frowning as a woman sobs out in pain - tears streaming from her eyes.

"But of course. I doubt anyone will be snaking their way to our shores again once we release them from our charge."

Watching on, some of the men and women restrained can be seen sobbing uncontrollably, while others moan and wheeze from the jolts inflicted upon their bodies. It's _sick_ , it's inhumane as it is uncouth! Alas, you'll never hear me uttering those words in a open setting. I walk on eggshells with my own government as it is. It would be unwise to fragment them any further than I have.

 _Hmm, anything to keep our nation 'safe', I suppose._


	4. Fade Out

_**CHAPTER 3 - FADE OUT**_

 _ **Synopsis:**_ With riots breaking out across eastern Panem in the afterglow of an astonishing Hunger Games, President Kane is left to pacify the population. It turns out these Games have garnered _quite_ the audience...

* * *

 _ **ARE YOU "IN THE KNOW!?" – YOUR NEWS THIS WEEK, MAY 24th, 2158**_

 _ **A Panem Brodcasting Corporation Newsreel *** **MMCLVIII***_

 _ **"The Ninety-Fifth Games Conclude! Ratings Reach Quell-Like Proportions!"**_

 _She goes by many names these days . . . "The Audacious Career", "La Pollito", "La Carrera Audaz"! Whatever you may know her as; Rafaela Novia takes the crown in the most riveting, bone-chilling Hunger Games yet!_

 _TV crews and admirers alike swarmed the peacekeeper-guarded Training Center Complex this morning in hopes to catch a glimpse of this year's victor! Sources inside the hospital in which the fifteen year old victor is being treated say that they are absolutely overwhelmed with gifts and well-wishes!_

 _"Get well soon Rafaela!" said 19-year-old Berenice Miller, "I supported you all the way!"_

 _"I've gotten myself out of bed, like I do every year, to come and support our newest victor," said 79-year-old Neville Gerrylane as he held the hand of his four year old granddaughter._

 _"It's the least I can do for someone who has given their all for a united Panem."_

 _With the injuries that our dauntless tribute from Snow Island endured, she can use all the support she could get!_

 _"A broken nose, moderate skin damage, moderate severing of the appendages on her left hand and moderately damaged irises are just some of the medical issues Miss Novia faces at this current time." Said Captain Onassis, a Capitol-appointed mentor to Snow Island's tributes during an early presser in the lobby of the Training Centre._

 _"Can any of those ailments progress into something critical?" asked a reporter from Capitol TV._

 _20-year-old Melanie Vasquez, Escort to Snow Island, was quick to downplay the question._

 _"I can assure all of you that Miss Novia will be unveiled on time for the twenty-sixth. If they could give Celosia Vale a bionic arm, I'm absolutely positive they could fix anything Rafaela is afflicted with!"_

 _Panem hasn't forgotten about its favourite dynamic duo. The presser was filled with many zingers and lighthearted moments._

 _"Francisco, how does it feel to have two female partners? Can we assume Isla Nieve's Victor's Village is going to become quite the source of gossip?"_

 _The fourteen year old grins. "I'm preparing myself for all the arguing now . . ."_

 _This prompts the audience to burst into laughter as Joyceta pinches his cheek._

 _This is quite the joyous occasion for Snow Island, as Rafaela joins Joyceta Rodriquez and Francisco Noriega as the third victor to hail from the Caribbean island. All three children are orphaned. Panem can only wonder how deep the relationship will go between these three beloved Victors._

 _We reached out to the Presidential Mansion for an official statement which says as follows by Press Secretary Naedeen Ashford:_

 _Rafaela Novia has showcased immense valiance in her tribute to the Games. She will serve as a fine beacon of guidance and hope to the people of Snow Island and Panem as a whole. President Kane will be on hand to present the tiara to Miss Novia as per custom."_

 _We wish Rafaela good luck in her recovery! And hope to see her soon for her crowning ceremony on 'Late Night with Marceline Devereaux!'_

 _" **Dozens Dead, Hundreds Injured as Senseless Violence Rocks Eastern Panem!"**_

 _Hospitals fill to the brim with wounded, peacekeeper cruisers are torched and flipped on their chassis. Numerous sit-in's and walk-outs have occurred thus far._

 _District's Twelve, Eight and the eastern sectors of Eleven have been hit with a wave of violent clashes in response to the Games' choice of locale. It seems that many of the relatives of the insolent rebels thwarted on that day recognized their slain kin. Unfortunately, the rabble-rousers that currently roam the streets of these districts fail to realize that it was their loved ones fault for taking up arms against the hands that fed them. The governors of the respective districts urge for calm amid a 'Level 4' emergency declaration, the lowest on a scale from 1 to 4 - called by the Head Peacekeepers of each affected district._

 _More on the unrest, which shall include a speech from President Agesilaus Kane and the victors of Eight, Eleven and Twelve, is expected to come to us by this upcoming Friday._

 _ **Well, now you know!**_

* * *

 _ **HeadPeacekeeper Commander Boudicca Palmer, 45**_

 _ **FT. BENNING, DISTRICT 11, MAY 2158 (95 A.D.D)**_

* * *

This District is absolutely _worthless_. Sometimes, part of me wishes I were working desk duty back at _The Nut_ or partaking in a change of the guard as a Capitol Guardsman.

As I leave my quarters and step onto the tarmac, I watch as Peacekeepers rush to and fro with various pieces of equipment to load onto SJ-7 Assault Transports and PN-104 Transport Hovercraft. It was a sprawl of activity I haven't seen since the Second Rebellion.

One of my many leftenants upon seeing me walks briskly to my position, snapping a crisp salute.

"Commander Palmer, Ma'am."

I return the salute. "Lieutenant Wells, give me a sitrep."

"The situation in the outer sectors – Augusta, Rome, Macon, have been quelled. In the south end of the administrative sector however has been… _problematic_."

As we walk, I crane my head toward him. "Define ' _problematic'_."

"Well Commander, these dissidents are a persistent bunch. They are currently making their way northbound from Summerhill, _toward_ the Justice Building. Injuries are currently in the hundreds on both sides. As of right now we have a protective line preventing the rioters from encroaching…but I'm _uncertain_ if it'll hold. What are your new orders, Ma'am?"

I turn to the young man, smiling as I nod off to a hovercraft. "Tell Sergeant-Major Jones that I'll be on my way to deliver my orders _in person."_

"Right away Ma'am, I shall monitor the situation in the comms tower."

…

The Co-Pilot of the hovercraft cranes her head toward me from the cockpit.

"Commander, we've arrived."

Nodding toward her and then to my six-man protection detail, we disembark in front of the Justice Building. Liberty Plaza, the parkette we landed on, was now as much as a logistical sprawl as Benning was. The expansive space where tributes would stand for reaping was now a moshpit of battle-weary Peacekeepers. Upon noticing me, they still – _inspired_ by my presence perhaps.

Sergeant- Major Jones strides to my position as we exchange a salute. He looks worse for wear as his body armor was marred with dirt and blood.

"The rioters advance south from Capitol Avenue." he says.

"The alderman chambers, the courthouse? What of them?"

"Secure from the rooftops. All aldermen and staff are secure within the main Justice Hall."

"Right…" as I take a glance around, I secure my ballistic helmet around my head as it hisses under pressure. As my HUD – Heads Up Display – lights up, I open my COMM menu.

 _"All units listen up! A mass of self-important rabble-rousers are preparing to break down the doors of their Justice Building and wreak havoc upon their fellow citizenry. If we have anything to say about it, **they will fail.** You must defend the Hall of Justice at all cost. I shall command you, GO! All units to me. Form a firing line – two ranks. The front rank, set your rifles to stun. The rear line – to kill. If the conditions escalate the rear ranks will engage."_

As a Corporal tosses me a PNPK-SLR Battle-Rifle, I slide in a fusion cell as the gun whines to life.

Side-by-side, Peacekeepers march in tandem with one another as I lead from behind. We march past burning husks of automobiles and overturned cans until we reach the mob of angry dissidents. Origins dating hundreds of years, line infantry formations have proved fruitful when it comes to suppressing violent crowds. Unlike the events at District 5's central dam, firing in tandem works much better than firing haphazardly at will. Upon seeing us, their bouts of chants and idiotic laughter grow quiet. I turn on my built in PA system.

"Hold position."

The formation halts with a resounding *clunk* as I climb aboard the top of a SJ-7 Transport. Although this position is quite dangerous as I'm susceptible to bullet or plasma, our armor has upgraded significantly during the Second Rebellion.

 _"Attention citizens of District 11! Cease all hostilities; this is your **final** warning! Continue, and you shall receive the force necessary to desis-"_

Casually, I crane my head to the side as a brick goes sailing past. _They never seem to adhere to reason, do they? Very well._

"Front rank, make ready!" My men shoulder their arms. "Present...and _fire_!"

A flash of smoke and violet flashes in my vision ( _Thank Snow for polarized visors_ ) as a volley of stun bolts streak towards the rioters. The shock spreads across their bodies as the bolts find their targets – people crying out in pain as they convulse on the floor.

As this happens, their bravado falters into screams of terror as they turn heel and begin to flee. K-9 handlers release their mutts as the dogs sicc any and all dissidents they find.

 _"Forward! Show them what happens when they threaten our peace and prosperity!"_

Slowly but surely, my men continue their shuffle through the streets of the District capital, stunning and arresting the rioters where they writhe.

 **President Agesilaus Kane**

 **CORIOLANUS C. SNOW MEETING ROOM - PRESIDENTIAL MANSION, CAPITOL CITY, MAY 26, 2158**

"As of…0300 hours eastern time, District 11 has been secure of insurrection. All primary industries are back to one-hundred percent efficiency while tertiary or _'privately-owned'_ industries run at sixty percent efficiency. They're fools, the lot of them. How do they expect to improve their situations when they loot and destroy _their_ businesses? Anyway, upwards of five-hundred persons have been detained, sixty people killed…with about a dozen wounded Peacekeepers. The wounded civilians are spread out in hospitals across the District. The western portion of the District is secure."

"What of District 8, Commander West?"

Headpeacekeeper Portia West' hologram adjusts her seating. "District 8 is stable. Privately-owned businesses are at full capacity…while primary industry is currently at eighty percent. Factory No.005 suffered serious damages, although I'm positive we can get that factory up and running. Since the rioting ended _yesterday_ , I assume you are aware of the medium casualties and detainees."

"General Wu, how did your region fare during the past week?"

The oriental man adjusts his black circular shades. "Well, of about four-hundred strikers – a hundred of them will face a form of justice. Of those one hundred people, upwards of that amount were injured during. My garrison managed to conclude this strike during the finale of the Ninety-Fifth Hunger Games. Might I add that the rehabilitation of District 13 in order to host a population there again goes well?"

"That's very good Tiberius, I can't wait to visit and see the differences." I say, raising a glass of water to my lips as I take a drink. "Smashing work, all of you. You can expect a daytime address from me later on."

Commander Palmer inclines her head. "Of course Your-Excellency, we'll be watching."

One by one, each hologram fades until there's only a handful of staff remaining. Defence Minister Regis Dorrian, Districts' Affairs Minister Marybelle Quercia, and Deputy Chief of Staff Celine Manafort among other aides and junior ministers.

I rise to my feet, nodding as they follow my gesture and regard me with attentive expressions.

"Thank you everyone for waking up so early. You can return to your respective committees and locations. Marybelle, I look forward to our meeting regarding lessening regulations for the Districts. Oh and Antonia, when it's time, please come collect me for the address to the nation later on today. I shall be in the residence with my wife."

With one last nod, we slowly funnel out of the conference room into the East Wing. Although it is quite early, the hub of the executive branch is a hive of activity. Assemblymen, Senators, Peacekeepers among other aides hover back and forth towards various rooms. Alongside my security detail, Celine pads over to me as quickly as her heels can take her – her PiPad in hand. I've always adored her sharp look – a navy peplum dress and white jacket.

"These rioters are quite annoying. Were they _always_ this troublesome?"

I shoot her a shrug. "Luckily you were but a babe when the war began. Back during the 74th they were much _much_ worse."

"Well, up until _now_ , things seem to be going very well under your watch. I anticipate that your speech will put things back in place again!" she chirps.

" _Thank you_ Celine, things couldn't be done without you and countless others." I relent, caressing her shoulder. "What about the rest of the nation, how do they fare?"

She hands me her PiPad. "See for yourself Sir!"

Taking her PiPad, I look over the news of the morning hour. District 1 opens a new shopping mall in their capital city, Helena. District 9 seems to be enjoying their bout with automobiles. District 3 opens a new subway station today. Citizens in District 4 were treated to a fireworks display a-la a dogfight over the Gulf of District 11…Australians versus Latino warlords.

Rafaela Novia, Victor of the Ninety-Fifth Hunger Games, prepares to touch down on Snow Island for her homecoming. The reviews to this year's arena and the zombified rebels dominate at least _five_ pages – all of them talking about how astonishing the mutts in these Games were.

Personally, I'm shocked only _one_ young lad got mauled by those things.

"Celine, please notify Defence Minister Corrian about setting up a possible meeting in regards to those…'zombies', I hope that those things will either be put down or kept under lock and key."

But of course Mr. President, I agree. My girlfriends and I were absolutely _frazzled_ by this year's Games."

As we round the corner, we come face to face with Gideon Montresor – behind-the-scenes Chief of Staff to Capitol darling all within a week's time.

"Top of the morning, Mr. President… _Celine_." he winks, hands in pocket and a PiPad in the crook of his arm.

"Gideon! I see the press is still hungry for your blood?" I chide.

"Not _anymore_! I took the liberty of telling them that Pearlana Singh will be taking over for Thames."

"Pearlana Singh? I knew her in uni. She has a _great_ work ethic." chimes Celine.

"She _briefed_ me on the arena plans. I agree Celine." I say, turning to my chief aide. "Viondra and Antonius were unaccounted for, where were they?"

"At the justice department being briefed on the influx of acceptable Avox candidates in the wake of the rioting."

"Very well, apart from that is there anything else on my itinerary for today?" I ask, taking hold on the stairway toward the private residence wing. The leather coat-clad Praetorian Guards flank either side of the hall, blocking the stairwell.

"Apart from your speech, no." says Celine, glancing towards Gideon jostles his head to and fro with a hesitant finger in the air.

" _That_ , _and_ be on the lookout for possible applications for clemency. Antonius and his team will get to you on that one once they decipher the Avox candidates."

I nod, smiling at the both of them. "You're superstars, the both of you. See you later on today."

…

 _Rafaela Novia, flanked by her Mentor, Escort and fellow Victors, makes her way down the stairs of the hovercraft toward the cameras and hundreds of onlookers as they cheer her name and other local chants in their native Spanish tongue. It's true what they say; the Games have a way of changing an individual – that's amplified tenfold when a younger tribute takes the crown. Her skin, once the tan typical of a Hispanic Panemian was now ghost white, as if she were a Capitolite. Not to mention her platinum white hair and sunglasses that covers her eyes. Although, being from a 'Semi-Career' District, she seems okay…as okay as a fifteen year old who killed three people offensively could be. Just as she shakes hands with a couple members of the audience, cameras were pressed into her face instantly._

 _"Rafaela, Rafaela, Rafaela, how does it feel to be back on the Island?!" hounds a reporter._

 _Before she enters the awaiting limousine, the fifteen-year-old flashes the gaggle of press a genuine smile._

 _"Home sweet home…It feels so very good to be back."_

 _"There you have it! Rafaela Novia – Victor of the Ninety-Fifth Annual Hunger Games is back on home turf. Stay tuned for more, including the tour of her villa in Victors Village after an update on the strikes in Eastern Panem."_

Even as I lower the volume on the holovision, Nina watches on with star struck eyes. It hasn't even been a week and the sixteen-year-old sports a bubble flip as well, Shine-Ban glasses tucked into the neckline of her dress.

" _Wow_ ," Nina gushes. "She's _so cool._ I didn't pay too much attention to her in the beginning, which makes her winning all the much better!"

"I agree darling, I didn't peg her to be a winner. She's an underdog through and through."

"Can I meet her soon Grandpa? Pretty please, with a cherry on top!?"

I smile softly. "Hopefully this summer we could visit Snow Island. Maybe then you can see her before her victory tour in December."

"That'd be a blast. Even if I met her for just _one minute,_ I'd be on Cloud 9. Well Gramps…I guess I'll catch you later then. Hopefully I can enjoy the rest of the weekend before school continues."

"See you soon, Nina. Tell your father to call me when you get back."

"Will do," As she turns to leave my private study, she nearly bumps into Cruella who gently moves her aside.

"Whoops, sorry Nana."

"It's okay darling. Miss Novia seems to be enjoying her newfound freedom…"

As Nina leaves and Cruella enters I glance at the holovision, watching as Rafaela waves to the spectating islanders in the back of an open top limousine.

"Yes, given her portfolio, I'd imagine she will be one of Panem's rising stars within the coming years."

My wife shakes her head sullenly. "How must she feel on the inside? She's only _fifteen_ for Panem's sake."

I shrug, wondering the same thing. "It's been nearly one hundred years, _ten_ years since Snow Island began to send tribute. That, alongside the influx of citizens from the Upper Districts has desensitized them entirely from the moral aspect. In the case of Miss Novia, she was simply a product of her environment. The Games were just a stepping stone."

Cruella nods toward the holovision. "Speaking of _morals_ …"

Returning my gaze to the set, I watch as a judge reads out the sentences of those who committed the most heinous of offenses during the incursions. As the judge finished a squad of Peacekeepers lined the condemned up and opened fire. Within the past twenty years since the War's end, I'd imagine that the Avox population was _booming_. Hundreds of thousands of rebels to choose from, now these incursions.

" _Those who partook in the utmost of crimes – rape, murder, arson that resulted in critical damage – are the ones who you see hanging by a noose or incinerated on the streets."_ Says Commander Palmer casually, her hands clasped behind her back while a subordinate Peacekeepers stands behind her.

The press continues their onslaught of questioning. _"What about everyone else, Headpeacekeeper!?"_

 _"Individuals such as ringleaders will be either transferred to a tullanium or will be avoxed – depending on the situation. Those who were just…'casual bystanders' will be let off with a warning. That's all the questions I can take at the moment for as you can see, we still have plenty of work ahead of us."_

Just as the reporters cry out to attract Palmer's attention whilst she marches off camera, the Linscott-Gordon siblings appear on stage to begin their speech. Clarence, the staunchly loyal of the pair, appears prideful while the more reserved Paisley stands behind him. I shut off the television.

"I thought things were finally beginning to _change_ ," Cruella mutters bitterly. "No more shacks, no more not partaking in their bounties in fear of getting beaten –"

"It was Gamemakers' choice of arena…"

"Yet you signed off on it?" she says, slipping into one of the empty swivel chairs.

"I didn't think that far ahead. It was during the pacification of the district – nearing the end of the Rebellion. While most laid down their weapons and surrendered, those still not back in Thirteen decided to continue fighting so that their commanders could buy time. The Capitol put them down like we did countless rebel units. They continued to stubbornly take up arms against us when the war was obviously coming to an end. If you ask me, they paid the ultimate price for their insolence. If not me and other likeminded individuals, things would still be the same as it was under _Snow_."

A soft smile appears on Cruella's weathered features. "I hope you have something like that on your script for today…well, a less _'self-centered'_ version of course."

"Yes, yes I do. I hope that a soft reminder from their Victors and I will help ease tensions."

"It should. Hopefully it'll remind them that there are only a handful of Games to go, and then things can truly get back on track…How goes the decommissioning of the Games?"

"It goes well. I signed it in by executive order. It should coincide hand in hand with the constitutional amendments and elections reform. Instead of only Capitols, District-appointed senators and assemblymen will enter the fray. Everything is on track to commence in the year of the 98th or 99th -2161 or '62 hopefully."

Cruella's smile threatens to fall off her face completely. "That's _perfect_ news! With all the changes within the past twenty years, imagine the change we could make with the Games not dominating our conscience."

I place a gentle hand over hers. "Here's to hoping. Too bad there's a vocal crowd of people who can't seem to let go and try something new."

"Like your very own _vice-president?_ Why do you still have these _people_ by your side, Agesilaus?"

"I'm not affiliated with the Nationalist Party, remember? If I lose their support, they'll force a vote – and all the work I and other likeminded people have fought for will be for _nothing_."

"I'm surprised they haven't forced you out already." My wife sneers.

I smirk, shooting her a wink. "Unless they want a _third_ civil war, they wouldn't."

We're roused by a knock on my study door.

I crane my head towards the ornate double doors. "Please, come in!"

As two Avoxes open the doors, one of my many aides – Antonia Lockpetal – saunters into the room as she nods sheepishly to the Avoxes flanking her. Mousy, jittery and all around peculiar, Antonia can get just about any task sent her way completed. She was a Three'er born in a Capitolite body – with the cable-knit sweater, blouse and skirt to go with it. Cruella always said that Antonia was her favourite of my aides. She was _mine_ too.

"Um… h-hello Mr. President, Mrs. Kane." She mews, adjusting her cat-eye glasses.

"How are you darling, is mum doing okay?" asks Cruella.

Antonia nods sheepishly. "Uh…she's doing very well. She's in District 4 for her twenty year anniversary." She turns to me now. "The team and I have prepped your speech, Sir. All that's left is for you to give it!"

I rise out of my seat. "Very well, let us be underway."

…

 **OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT - PRESIDENTIAL MANSION, THE CAPITOL – 3:00 PM.**

I've always hated the preparatory aspect of these addresses.

Surrounded by my 'prep-team', Gideon continues to swipe away on a PiPad as Celine dictates orders to the communications team. Multiple cameras, one for each major network, sit on tracks that can zoom in or out if need be.

My Head Stylist slips a pocket square into my breast pocket.

"Let's try the three-point fold today; it'll look totally _boss_ with your three-piece you're wearing." She says.

With a genuine smile I nod. "You know more than I, Patricia."

"Five minutes until we're live!" calls my Secretary of Communications.

I peer towards Gideon. "How go the affected districts?"

Through his browline glasses Gideon glances upward. "It bodes well…Our spies say they're a little sour, but happy that the violence is over. In my humble opinion, all they need is a little reminder of how far we've come since the war. Things are getting _better_ but if they continue to lash out like they did, all this progress has the potential to falter."

I nod. "It seems this speech will hit all the right notes, then."

After my face is powered and my hair slicked backward, my prep team and members of the cabinet take up positions in the form of a line to my left and right – behind the cameras.

" _Okay_ Mr. President." Says Celine as she makes the number ' _5'_ with her hand. "We are live in five, four, three…"

"Good afternoon, citizens of Panem. As you've just witnessed, we have just celebrated our ninety-fifth year of peace and prosperity within our borders. It was a riveting Games indeed, as fifteen year old Rafaela Novia ascended to victory. I would like to congratulate her and the citizenry of Isla Nieve on their third victor since partaking in our pageant only ten years ago. This goes without saying that this year's fallen tributes also fought with dignity and grace. It's is both victor _and_ vanquished that make _all_ of us united.

It has come to my attention that certain segments of our population were…'uncomfortable' by the locale of these years' Games. For it was this very location in which many of their relatives took up arms against our Capitol…only to be put on display for the nation at large. Mind you, that it was _their_ decision to attack the loving hand that fed them - _protected_ them. Due to the courteous mindsets many of you harbor, you continue to stand at this very moment – you continue to reap the benefits of our renewed relationship. Self-governance, a house with a backyard and picket fencing, automobiles that run on water…There's so much more to come, but we _cannot_ progress any further with thoughtless insurrections like we've witnessed in cities across Panem. As we reach our fourth Quarter Quell and centennial Games which is to be our last, I ask that you look forward to a more prosperous lifetime not only for yourself, but for your children and _their_ children.

Since the conclusion of the Second Rebellion only twenty years ago, we have heard your cries for change and we are willing to deliver but there is only so much one vessel can do. In order to progress, we must work in _tandem_ with one another. So far, things seem to be going well in this regard. Surely things have improved from how they were twenty odd years ago? Then please, keep that in mind as you go about your lives. In conclusion - love your labor; take pride in your task, our future is in your hands.

Thank you! Good evening. Panem Today, Panem Tomorrow, Panem Forever."

"And we're out!" calls a technician.

The room erupts in applause as I rise out of my seat and nod curtly. With a kiss on the cheek from my wife, Celine is on me in an instant, pumping my hand with a bright smile on her face.

"That was _perfect_ , Mr. President."

Gideon appears to be in agreement. "Like I said, a little reminder will go a long way." He says, earning a nod from Celine.

I gesture towards Antonia, who notices and returns my gesture while fidgeting with her skirts. "She has a way with words – writing them that is."

Gideon types something into his PiPad. "I agree, Antonia is rising star potential. If only we could break down that shell of hers…I'll be sure to assign her to the communications team more often."

As I nod, I watch from the corner of my eye as National Defence Minister Regis Corrian peers in from the slightly ajar entryway – Foreign Affairs Minister Aristela Belliard tailing him. As he locks eyes with me, they quickly make a beeline towards my desk.

"Mr. President, Gideon, Celine…" he splutters, uncharacteristically out of breath.

"-We have a problem." Aristella deadpans.

I frown, Gideon and Celine following my notion. "What do you mean problem?"

"Spain says we can no longer use their airspace to reach Switzerland, Egypt declined our partnership offer and what is best described as the remnants of various South American governments deny us access to much of the continent."

My frown deepens…I've always despised foreign conflict, as if we didn't have enough issues at home to deal with. "That's preposterous. Spain is an afterthought, pulled by the leash of the British and French, the South Americans barely have two pieces of wood to rub together and Egypt is as hopeless as any other backwater nations in that region…What is this sudden change all about?"

Looking down at a PiPad, Aristella blows up an image and shares it with me. The image holds an apparent news headline from England. _ **'BARBARIC: Yanks Make Children Kill For Sport!'**_

"Apparently, our national sport has garnered _quite_ the audience."


	5. Double Take

_**CHAPTER 4 - DOUBLE TAKE**_

 _ **Synopsis**_ : As the remnants of the world come together for yet another Council of Nations meeting, the Kane Administration attempts to decipher the chess-match that is foreign affairs...

* * *

 _ **PRESIDENTIAL OFFICE - PRESIDENTIAL MANSION, CAPITOL CITY, MAY 28, 2158**_

" _Let me get this straight. You are trying to tell me that the Games were showcased to the remnants of the world?"_

"Basically, _yes."_ Replies Aristella.

 _"…How?"_ inquires an annoyed Viondra via holoscreen.

"Regis and his team are looking into it. From what I'm told, they have it all figured out. They're just waiting for a takeaway from this interim summit to decide further action."

I raise an eyebrow. "And the reactions to our national sport are…?"

"What you'd expect. Their fears have become reality, no longer whispers. Our usual gaggles of acquaintances abroad don't necessarily _care_ , as they find the benefits to our relationship to be sufficient… excluding our ' _moral and cultural'_ differences of course."

I adjust my seating, exhaling deeply. The possibility of being routed and attacked leaves me unnerved. That's the way of the world, is it not? Our ancestors had NATO and the Warsaw Pact, among other 'unions' to deter their rivals. Although I doubt they've ever dealt with anything as brazen as we have in current times.

"I'm concerned about the safety of our nation…" I say flatly, staring at nothing in particular.

"With honesty, we have been very active on the world stage as of recent. I'm sure that they must been as unnerved as we might?" asks Aristella.

"I agree. I _want_ cooperation, but this, this won't stand. Next thing you know they'll use the south as a launching platform. I'm sorry, but we _can't_ have that."

 _"Unnerved about **what**? Of course we can't have this." _seethes Viondra, as 'seething' as her soft voice _can_ be. _"What would **they** do with the resources leftover? They act as if they live in the **stone ages,** clearly most people on this husk we call Earth can't manage a thing for themselves. No one else is using it, so we might as well take. _Thankfully people outside of Panem can see this and act accordingly. _"_

 _Maybe we could teach them how?_ Instead of rifles and antiquated planes, we send civilian advisors to pull them up by their bootstraps. Unfortunately, people like you will see to it that we have a fourth world war before any cooperation could be _sought_.

I hold my tongue, sighing as I turn to my Foreign Affairs Minister. "Say, could I get a _rundown_ of their armaments?"

Nodding, Aristella punches in a text on her tablet. "Regis and the Peacekeeper Command are looking into it as we speak. As of right _now_ , President Anheuser of Switzerland would like to call another Security Council meeting regarding the situation in Southeast Asia."

"I am already here. I'll continue to wait." Viondra nods, as the holocall dissipates.

" _Joy_ , we get to see our dysfunctional world community once more." I say cheekily, rising out of my seat.

"I for one am looking forward to another verbal spar." Says Aristella, smirking.

I gesture towards the grand doors that lead out my office. "Lead the way, Minister."

 **THE "SNOW" EXECUTIVE MEETING ROOM – CAPITOL CITY, 12:00PM**

TRANSCRIPT OF A RECORDING OF A MEETING AMONG THE PRESIDENT, COUNCIL OF NATIONS (CN) SECURITY COUNCIL IN THE CORIOLANUS C. SNOW CONFERENCE ROOM ON MAY 28, 2158 (95 ADD), FROM 12:00 TO 2:00 PM.

In attendance:

Switzerland:

 ** _President Dietrich ANHEUSER_**

Panem:

 ** _President Agesilaus KANE  
Vice President Viondra DeWYNTER  
Minister Aristella BELLIARD_**

Australian Confederation:

 ** _President Joseph MATTHEWS  
Vice President Martha PRESTON_**

United Kingdom & Ireland:

 ** _King LAWRENCE III_**

United Democratic Republic of Korea:

 ** _Premier Ahn Sun POK_**

South West Africa:

 ** _President John VAN DE KAAMP_**

Union of Sovereign States:

 **Marshal Sergei ** _KUDRYAVTSEV_****

 **Caliphate of Arabia:**

Prince **_MUTHASIM_** **V**

 **OTHER:  
-Minor spectator states via holoscreen/video monitor  
-Technicians for all states mentioned above. **

* * *

**_Anheuser (Swiss):_** Good afternoon everyone. _[Dry mutters in reply_ ] Hopefully you all have your interpreters on standby, although surprisingly most of your English holds up well – given the implications our world had and is facing. I assume most of you know why we meet here today _? [More untellable muttering]_ Correct, the situation within Southeast Asia…alongside harrowing news regarding The Nation of Panem's treatment of their children. It appears the rumors are tru-

 ** _Belliard (PN.)_** : And so? Please don't tell me you've gone kumbaya on us too, Mister Anheuser.

 **Anheuser _:_** _[Raises hand in surrender]_ The Swiss Federation is merely a neutral broker. What do you mean by 'And so?' Minister Belliard?

 ** _Lawrence III (GBR):_** It's quite obvious Mr. Anheuser. These yanks don't care about their future, only about filling their craws with decadence and bloodlust.

 **Preston (AC.):** And so!? You Panemians are so bloody… DISGUSTING! I can barely look in your direction. _[Nods of agreement from various heads of government_ ] Ugh…Over a _thousand_ kids dead and your response is _'And so?'…Jesus Chri-_

 **DeWynter (PN.):** Matthews, could you tell your attack dog to heel…? _[The Vice President approaches the hologram of the AC VP]_ You wouldn't want anything to go astray with your foreign agents currently held in our custody after being **_inserted_** offensively? Not to mention the possible withdrawal of Panemian, Korean and USS troops from our little venture on the Chinese coast. You and your ilk have a tendency to grandstand on matters in which you are just as guilty.

 ** _Matthews (AC.):_** _[Reluctantly, motions for Preston to calm down to which she does] You_ will do no such thing! Our actions are done on the basis of self-defence, given your gluttonous actions not only in OUR region, but across the globe. _[Resounding cheers of agreement, followed by heated accosting from both sides]_

 ** _Oleastro (Other.):_** If you ask me, Panem has no leg to stand on when it comes to any issue. Gluttony is just the _tip_ of the iceberg.

 ** _Belliard (PN.):_** I'm sorry, who are you? Oh yes right…Spain, another irrelevant shell of a nation running its mouth in business it knows nothing about. Just like the British and South Americans.

 _[More expletives and accosting from respective sides of the 'conflict']_

 ** _Anheuser (Swiss):_** Everyone, please! Calm down. Yet people continue to wonder when the next bomb will drop…look at the way you all go about conducting business? You act like insolent children more than politicians. Things will never get better if you all continue at this rate.

 ** _Matthews (AC.):_** I just don't see how anyone could be in cahoots with such a… _appalling_ government such as Panem's, as oppressive as _Korea or Russia._ Agesilaus, you seem to have your mind in the right place, but with your lackeys over there and the other barbarians under your wing, not a bloody thing will change. Speaking of _Agesilaus_ , when are you going to speak up!? Why are you letting the women do all the talking?

 ** _Kane (PN.):_** Well erm…I thought my girls were doing pretty well. _[Laughter from his allies, silence from dissenters]_ Listen, Panem will do what it must to survive. Plenty of other nations have taken a 'The world is our oyster' mentality and have mimicked our actions. I agree, I would love further cooperation between our nations but using espionage and hijacking our telecommunications _breaches_ this trust…

 ** _Preston (AC.):_** We too have been doing what _we need to do_ in order to survive incursions from the greedy. _Plenty_ of nations such as ours believe that if we work _together_ maybe, _just maybe_ things will be better for our children and _their_ children. Like things _USED_ to be.

 ** _POK (NK):_** Neoneun eolmana yeoggyeoun yutopia jeog sago bangsig-eul gajigo Issneunya ... soljighi malhaeseo, geugeos-eun naleul tohago sipda. gwageoneun jinachida. dukkeoun dugaegol-eul tonghae jinaganda. igeos-i uligaissneun gos-ibnida ** _. [Translate: What a disgustingly utopian mindset you carry...Honestly, it makes me want to puke. The past is OVER; get that through your thick skulls. It's the reason why we are where we are.]_**

[Pok and the Australian delegation exchange glares]

 ** _Kudratseyev (USS):_** Da, I agree with Ahn. Who are the likes of Australia, the British and their gaggle to police world they destroyed? If you haven't looked around recently, everything is bone and rubble. If not, then populace playing with sticks and stones. Their resources are much better put to use by those who can.

 ** _Van De Kaamp (SWA):_** You all can take your neoliberal garbage and shove it up your arse! We've all done heinous things to keep our nations afloat. Don't act as if any of you people have any foot above anyone else's. We've killed hundreds of thousands if not _millions_ of _kaffirs,_ because they would've killed _us_. Top it all off, we've built a wall running from Namibia downwards to keep em out - big thanks to _Panem_ for their help. If you people are just as conniving and globalist as your ancestors, you can forget cooperation.

[Heated confrontations in regards to preventing incursions by Panem and other nations]

 ** _Lawrence III (GBR):_** You are just as bad as those three, Van De Kaamp!

 ** _Matthews (AC):_** Agreed, Your Majesty. The Australian Confederation hasn't forgotten about your bigotry, mate. With aide by warmongering factions within Panem's government, we've heard many a story from refugees fleeing the villages you raze in the name of your _'Ethno state'._

 ** _Muthasim (Arabia):_** You continue to talk about warmongering yet you and your 'confederation' alongside your ' _allies'_. Continue to encroach upon Chinese territory and engage in espionage. I've executed at least fifty agents from Britain and the Confederation alone! Panem had _one hundred?_ I'm surprised you haven't been razed to the ground. [Pointing off towards the widescreen – towards Egypt] Do not expect me to continue aiding you in your endeavors with the Jews and the Levant. Like all the other hellholes within my region, I hope you _rot_.

[A look of surprise and self satisfaction fills the face of the Israeli President, the opposite of Egypt's leaders, as their monitor goes dark.]

 ** _Pok (NK):_** _[Pointing to Muthasim]_ He good, I like him.

 ** _Preston (AC):_** 'Seph and I agree, alongside our many allies, that as long as these leaders continue to persist, we _will_ resist.

 ** _Anheuser (Swiss):_** And as long as _WE_ , meaning Switzerland, continue to thrive – no one will be launching missiles at each other in a fit of pique. _[Sighing]_ Now onto China, then we'll be on our way. All the 'Warlords' of the various regions have decided to omit from attending this meeting. I understand that Muthasim and Van De Kaamp have aided the Khalistani and Tibetan people in their fight with the likes of Zhang Wei to the Southwest… The USS and Korea alongside their 'moderate' Chinese leaders to the north…Then Wei Feng is being dealt with by a joint-venture composed of Panem, Korea and Confederation troops. Is this correct President Kane?

 ** _Belliard (PN):_** Yes, this is true. Panem's Expeditionary Force are currently engaged in tandem with 'allied' forces in this region…although Panem can't help but feel 'shuffled' due to the AC's constant attempt to undermine us. I am just kindly reminding them that their foreign agents are still in our custody, and that their next moves will dictate the condition they are returned in.

 ** _Kane:_** What my Minister said.

 ** _Matthews (AC):_** Listen mate, we'll do our job and you do ours. You just make sure my men and women get back in one piece, got it?

 ** _DeWynter:_** No promises.

 ** _Pok_** : ildan uliga yeogiseo kkeutnamyeon neoneun daleun inchileul eod-eul geos gatji anh-a, maetyu. [Translate – Don't think you'll get another inch of land after this, Matthews.]

 ** _Matthews:_** I don't like this anymore than you do, you pinko.

 ** _Pok:_** _S_ injayujuui _dwaeji_. [Translate- Neoliberal _pig_ ]

 ** _Anheuser:_** _[Glancing around the table and monitor, sighing]_ Alright. That concludes our meeting on the situation in East Asia. I look forward to meeting you all in Geneva next month for our meeting on resource allocation and territorial boundary claims. Here's hoping we won't be atomized once more, ja? [Tired mutters throughout the room]

Very well, meeting adjourned. Thanks for your attendance.

[It is at this point in time where the monitor is now offline and all respective world leaders dissipate]

 _ **Kane**_ : I'm sorry, but this can't stand. I'm all for cooperation, but an, uh, attempt of being 'corralled' will not do anyone any favors. Aristella, please make sure that report is delivered to me ASAP. Hopefully it can coincide with the Peacekeeper Command meeting next week or so.

 ** _Belliard_** : Of course, Mr. President. Expect a full, erm, comprehensive report on possible solutions to our problem sometime next week.

 _ **Kane**_ : First the the Second Rebellion, the agents, Thames and Antipatros now this?! I thought your deployment of the Expiditionary Force would be enough to quell things Viondra?

 _ **DeWynter**_ : Them being deployed was only a temporary measure. Like my mother always says Agesilaus, there's always an up to every down.

 _ **Kane**_ : I'm not sure if I could confidently follow your notion. At this rate, no one will be 'one-upping' anyone anymore.

***END OF TRANSCRIPT***


	6. Round House

_**Chapter 5 – ROUND HOUSE**_

* * *

 ** _ARE YOU "IN THE KNOW!?" – YOUR NEWS THIS WEEK, JUNE 5th, 2158_**

 ** _A PBC Newsreel_** * ** _MMCLVIII*_**

 ** _"Panem's Brainy Daughter, Gwendolyn Faraday of District 3, to Begin Studies at the Capitol's P.I.T campus!"_**

 _She's quirky, beautiful and brainy wrapped up in a bow! Only seventeen years of age, Ninety-Second Hunger Games Victor Gwendolyn Faraday has been accepted into the Panem Institute of Technology this week. What is the young lady studying you ask?_

 _"H-H-History," she says sheepishly to reporters. "Mm-m-maybe once I'm done t-th-that, I'll do engineering."_

 _Like many of District Three's victors, Gwendolyn has always dived into textbooks nose first. The old saying always says that District 3 is ' **The Laboratory of the World'!**_ This couldn't be truer as legions of scientists and inventors have created many scientific breakthroughs throughout Panem's history. Like the odd holographic duo Vi and Pax! Hey look, there they are now sitting in the audience like normal people! It's hard to believe the persons they were made after died nearly one hundred years ago!

But if that isn't an example of Panemian technical know-how, I don't know what is!

Run by the **Panem Advanced Technical Training** system under the Ministry of Science, the Panem Institute of Technology has many campuses, both Secondary and Post-Secondary, throughout Panem to house our nations best and brightest! Ever since she was little, Ms. Faraday has worked very hard to solidify her future, skipping numerous grades due to her sharp intellect!

Today, the Sixth of June, Twenty-One Fifty-Eight, Ms. Faraday meets with President Kane to bestow the young Victor the title of 'Honorary Curator' at the National Archives. It is here where our young history buff will continue to work alongside likeminded peoples in order to preserve our past, present and future.

Panem salutes Ms. Faraday and others like her who continues to work day and night in order to advance our nation and its people!

Good on you Miss Faraday, good on you!

 ** _Well, now you know!_**

 **PANEM NATIONAL ARCHIVES LIBRARY, CAPITOL CITY, JUNE 6, 2158 – 12PM**

 **Agesilaus Kane:**

"-Like the likes of Wiress Plummer, Yohan Fairbain and Fawn Odinshoot, District 3 has offered so very much towards the advancement of Panem. So, on behalf of our Capitol, I am proud to grant Gwendolyn Irene Faraday the position 'Honorary Curator' of Panem's National Archives!"

As I secure my hand with Gwendolyn's trembling one and shake it, the spectator gallery erupts with polite applause. I'm not sure if its medicine, but Ms. Faraday seems awfully 'tame' – less jittery than I remembered. I don't blame the young woman for being so. Like many tributes that hail from Three, they are forced to toss away morality in order to preserve their lives – or die trying. I remember the Ninety-Third Games very well, the arena being a laboratory of sorts – filled with mechanical animal and sludge monster mutts. Taking advantage of the chemical compounds, Gwendolyn concocted a toxic gas and lured the remaining tributes into what essentially was a _gas chamber._ She didn't dare avert her thirteen year old eyes away from the observation window as the dying tributes coughed up flesh and clawed their eyes out in agony.

Even now, Victors' Affairs still keeps Capitol-appointed Tertius Varro as backup in the event that Gwendolyn decides to do something drastic. I'm hoping that the recent news will keep her going just a little bit more.

I smile, kissing the young woman on the forehead as I surrender the podium to her. She deserves the honorific, for she's this generations' Beetee Latier. Like they always say, Gwen is worth _fifty Victors._

"Um…Thank you President Kane," Gwendolyn says, her voice lacking the usual stutter that comes with it. I'm going to assume that she took medicine to quell her trauma – _poor child_. "-Members of the National Library, Doris, Tertius…and other distinguished guests. Panem, and the centuries before its inception, are filled with history both positive and negative. Being someone who adores history of all kinds, I am very much glad to be one of its keepers. Thank you."

"I hope you enjoy your new position, and I wish you well when you begin your studies next fall." I say, hands clasped behind my back. We roam the pillared ornate halls of the National Archives now with an entourage following around us, engaged in its many exhibits and portraits. Camera crews film the spectacle for their newsreels.

Spacious, humbling yet luxurious all at the same time, the National Archives house many artifacts predating Panem. Locked behind velvet ropes, forcefields or subterranean bunkers, one could view portraits, documents like the _pre-Panem U.S_ constitution and our _current_ constitution, photographs, original copies of every Hunger Games held, automobiles like the _Cadillac One_ and even archaic ' _YouTube'_ videos for posterity sake. This complex truly does serve as a 'testament' of sorts.

"Thank you, Mr. President. I-I'm looking forward to attending the expedition to the ruins of Ottawa. Hopefully we could find some new artifacts to add to the archives." She replies, her voice soft and easy-going.

"I'm glad you're happy. It may not seem so, but I fully understand how…'difficult' the burdens of victory can be. Consider this position and your enrollment in classes as a _gift_. I sense a bright future ahead of you, my child. It would be awful if something were to happen."

She nearly stops in place, but is quick to keep walking in order not to raise questions. With beady eyes, she gazes at me in a way I cannot decipher. However, I will assume it's a look of thanks mixed in with astonishment.

"Thank you Sir. However, things have been good…I guess. Zinnia is pretty cool, alongside Ainsley and the duo from Isla Nieve." She nods off to the other members of her team. "Doris and Tertius have been pretty swell as well."

With an arm latched around Tertius' arm, the eccentric pop-singer-slash-escort saunters with a pep in her step while her male companion looks as if he would rather be anywhere but _here_.

"Lookie at all the history, ain't it grand?" Doris chirps. "Who knows, maybe one of our ancestors made one of them ' _YouTube'_ videos?"

Tertius snorts. "Never knew you had the space up there for history admiration, girlie."

I stifle a laugh, as Gwendolyn does the same. "What a team you have there."

As we continue to walk and converse with guests and other bureaucrats, I'm interrupted by a Presidential Mansion Aide.

"Excuse me, Mr. President?" he says, with slight urgency in his voice.

"Excuse me Miss Faraday, everyone." I say, turning towards the young man.

"I'm sorry. It's about the report regarding the situation in the Grand Pacific. Everyone is waiting back at the mansion."

With a hoarse breath escaping my lips, I gesture down the hallway. "Please, after you."

 **EXECUTIVE MEETING ROOM, PRESIDENTIAL MANSION - 2PM**

The meeting room overflowed with cigarette smoke, as per usual when it came to high-stakes deliberations. The smoke was accentuated due to the lights being turned off – the map of China and troop movements the only source of brightness.

"Admiral Hansson, how goes the situation on the Chinese coast?" asks Viondra.

The hologram of Admiral Glamoure Hanssen, Headpeacekeeper of the Navies, eases in her seat. "Well. We've helped the Confederation secure pockets of land here and there. Hangzhou Bay and the islands within are perfectly secured, as well as 'Ningbo'. We've relegated most of our support to shelling and hoverjet engagements to maximum effectiveness. Our ground units perform exceptionally well might I add. In terms of casualties…twenty Peacekeepers have been killed in action, about one hundred are considered wounded in action. Not bad considering our ' _domestic'_ focus."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say, nodding to the guard who makes way for me. "I'll be sure to add a personal touch to the notification letters."

Wordlessly, the Peacekeepers in the room rise to attention. The civilian aides follow their notion to a less rigid extent. With a gentle tap on Gideon's back, I ease into the chair he allots for me.

"At ease ladies and gentlemen. I recall that you have a report for me to view?"

Nodding, Field Marshal Maximillion Byng - Headpeacekeeper of the Armies, slides a folder towards my place of sitting. "Correct, Sir. Within that folder you will find our recommendations, alongside a case study on our friends out west."

…

MINISTRY OF NATIONAL DEFENCE

 **[TOP SECRET]**

TO: Office of the President of PANEM  
FROM: Headpeacekeeper Council

SUBJECT: Operation: BLACKOUT

 **1.** The reasoning for the showcasing of Panemian telecommunications to places outside of our hemisphere are due to pre-Panem satellites that continue to roam the planets orbit.

(a) – This satellite more specifically is one under Confederation control.

(b)- This satellite(s), henceforth known as **_OPTUS,_** continues to operate faintly alongside Panemian telecommunications. This allows limited access to items such as our television and internet via a 'handshake' akin to a landline.

(c)- OPTUS is supplemented by a forward observation station located on the remote Grand Pacific Island of: **NEW CALEDONIA**

(d)- It is also believed that Thames Hyperion gained internet access to Confederation officials through this channel. It was also through this channel where former District 13 government was limited contact with Confederation officials.

(e)- In the view of a Panemian perspective, OPTUS is **_NOT_** an essential commsat and is **_DETRIMENTAL_** to our security. If the Confederation wished to communicate officially, the Council of Nations **_COUNSAT_** is the official channel.

 ** _2._** The Panem Strategic Command and affiliated secretariats highly recommend the complete destruction of this satellite and any other satellite that has a range within our hemisphere.

(a)- This will aid PASA **_(Pan-American Space Agency)_** and respective departments in regards to the Aquarius Program and its ventures in the near future.

(b)- Due to the nature of the world outside our borders, the further leaking of information pertaining to Panem's operation in both civilian and military regards **_CANNOT_** be tolerated any further.

 ** _3._** The Peacekeeper Strategic Command, in conjunction with the Ministry of National Defence recommends the following (From preferential to least):

(a)- Neutralization of this comms facility via MRBM's (Medium Range Balistic Missiles) from Hawaii/ utilization of an ASAT (Anti-Satellite) missile to destroy said spacecraft.

(b)- Neutralization of this comms facility via conventional non-nuclear ballistic ordinance from a naval vessel or other craft/ utilization of an ASAT to destroy said spacecraft.

(c)- Insertion of ground units to sabotage said installation. ( **NOT recommended.)**

 **4.** With these options comes the chance of escalation. Thanks to the pre-Panemian **_FVEY_** (FIVE EYES) network, we have considerable defence intelligence on our adversaries out west. Based on our findings we have this to say about their capabilities:

(a)- Approximately sometime between the apocalypse and present times, Japan and the Commonwealth of Australia have developed arms of a nuclear nature. How many we cannot say, however we can estimate that they carry more than a dozen forms of nuclear weaponry. This could either be from the resources both nations possessed, or from the seizure of Chinese warheads. To our knowledge 'Taiwan' had limited means of enriching their resources enough to forge a nuclear warhead.

(b)- Between 'Japan', 'Philippines', 'Taiwan', and 'Australia', they boast a force to be reckoned with in terms of naval capabilities. However, it is the Australian and Japanese forces that carry most of the weight. Nonetheless if an operation were to occur, it would be Australian vessels we would have to contend with.

(c)- Ground units are not an issue at this current time.

(d)- In terms of nuclear capabilities, it is plausible that the 'Confederation' can utilize a delivery system although its success varies. Their strike fighters (F-18 'Super Hornets') are unlikely to progress into our airspace without carriers to launch from. Unless captured from Chinese forces or procured, we are uncertain.

 ** _5._** With Panemian troops being offered unfettered access to the China Sea and surrounding region due to the ongoing conflict in China, Operation: BLACKOUT is inclined to have a high percentage of success. If successful, Operation BLACKOUT is a reaffirmation of Panemian strength and sovereignty. Be advised that due to the current political situation between the 'Confederation' and PANEM, further socio-political compromise is probable. This 'compromise' is proposed by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, however we at the Panem Strategic Command advocate for a full showcase of our military power.

Further explanation and deliberation can be sought with us in person.

Sincerely Yours,

GENERAL L.N PARANGOSKY, Chairwoman of the Headpeacekeeper Council  
GENERAL M.C. BYNG, Headpeacekeeper of the Army  
ADMIRAL G.A HANSSON, Headpeacekeeper of the Navy  
GENERAL K.J DURNFORD Headpeacekeeper of the Air Force  
GENERAL H.E FRANTZ, Headpeacekeeper – Panem Strategic Command

…

"So Mr. President?" asks Minister Dorrian, as my Headpeackeepers and aides watch on with curious expressions. "What do you think of the report?"

Pursing my lips, I reach for a glass of water, drinking it in what felt like one prolonged gulp. Not a muscle was moved as an Avox quickly filled the glass once more. If not me, I wonder, who else would be sitting in this chair? Certainly someone with less foresight and temperance than I have, someone who Anheuser described ' _would launch a missile in a fit of pique'?_

" _This,"_ I wave the dossier in the air, "Is what brought forth _this, all of this."_ I point to our flag, then to each and every person sitting in this roundtable. "Since when was a direct skirmish considered a _plausible_ idea?"

"It has been 'plausible' Ever since our national security has been threatened and compromised to the upmost degree." Viondra says evenly, blowing out excess smoke from her cigarette. "If things were to ever kick off, Panem would be at a serious disadvantage."

"Why do you _think_ we're at a serious disadvantage, Viondra!?" I retort, pointing towards the holographic map. "If we weren't over there in the _FIRST_ place, taking resources that weren't ours to begin with then maybe we would be isolated like we were prior!"

Gideon raises a hand "With respect, Mr. President, _they_ started this by rendering aid to the rebels during the war."

"Regardless of that, do you agree with this proposal?"

My Chief of Staff adjusts his glasses, his face twisted into a frown. "Although I'm the last person to suggest a drastic measure…we _do_ have one hundred foreign agents on our soil who _don't_ have identification records past the _Seventy-Sixth_ Hunger Games. I disagree with a nuclear option; it's much to 'showy' for an operation that could be dealt with in a multitude of ways. Regardless of the outcome, we have the upper hand."

Aristella raises a hand. "I agree with Gideon, the usage of a medium range missile from Hawaii would only escalate tensions. It is unknown how the delivery systems for their nuclear weapons are handled. Although our anti-missile system is up-to-date, it _isn't_ bulletproof."

"It may not be ' _bulletproof'_ Ms. Belliard, but our systems are more than enough to shoot down any unit they may deploy against us. We've been doing it since _The Dark Days."_ Boasts General Honorius Frantz, Headpeacekeeper of Panem Strategic Command. "Although…I will relent that the outcome is up in the air. Our system in terms of infrastructure is fragile. Sure, our factories or distribution centres might not be located in one single city, but if even _one_ is critically damaged it _could_ set back the rest of the nation."

Sighing, Headpeacekeeper General Linda Parangosky removes her glasses and caresses her eyes, smoothing her grey hair.

"Mr. President…" she begins flatly. "If you do _not_ put your foot down like you _did not_ put your foot down with 'Thames Hyperion', this 'Confederation' will only become more brazen in their attempt to 'contain' us. Like Vice President DeWynter noted, these actions will only leave us weaker and open to attack – as per South America for example."

I glance around the roundtable, returning each gaze that's sent my way. The look of annoyance from my Headpeacekeepers and Viondra, the encouraging looks and nods from Aristella and Gideon. Glancing down at the dossier and looking over the options given to me, history and those who came before me would look down upon me with fondness.

Closing my eyeglasses and slipping them into my breast pocket, I toss the dossier onto the table in front of me.

"No, _no_ nuclear strikes or ballistic missiles of any kind. I _won't_ do it. Outright killing of any Confederation troops will needlessly escalate the conflict!"

Audible groans, alongside the thwacking of items colliding against the mahogany in disdain could be heard as clear as day.

Headpeaceekeeper Parangosky steadily rises out of her seat. "President Kane, I _implore_ yo-"

"NO nuclear weapons! As your Supreme Leader, you will _heed_ my decisions damn you!"

With a straight-lip and a slight incline of the head, Parangosky slips back into her chair without a word as she takes a sip of her drink.

"It _NEEDS_ to be done. So if not a means that will kill enemy combatants, then what?" implores Viondra.

The entire room appears to be at a silent standstill, each of us pondering to ourselves. Pondering over what? I am uncertain. This continues to be the case until the hologram of Admiral Hansson rises from the seat in front of me, as if she had an epiphany.

"How about the Castlebreaker?"

Aristella's ears perk with intrigue. "What's a 'Castlebreaker'?"

"The PN-88/C 'Hydra' Gunship – 'Castlebreaker' variant," Gideon says with a nod, punching in numerous commands into his tablet. The map of Asia in the center of the roundtable was now replaced with an enormous hovercraft-like vessel. "If these things were around during the Second Rebellion, we could've won without a rifle fired."

Parangosky nods in agreement. "Developed as far back as the Seventy-Third Hunger Games, try to imagine the firepower of fifty hovercrafts amassed into one command-and-control variant. So far, we have _five_ completed. With enough firepower to level a small neighbourhood, the Hydra's 'bread-and-butter' so to speak is crowd suppression, a staging ground for expeditions, close air support…"

"Erm, it fits _multiple_ roles very well Mr. President. Since escalation is an apparent concern, if we fit the 'Castlebreaker' variant with crowd suppressants alongside its normal payload we could possibly get the job done without any ' _serious casualties_ '."

The wonks in District 3, 2 and 6 are constantly working on multiple prototypes to further enhance Peacekeeper capabilities. Looking at this vessel that's easily as wide as an apartment building, I'm shocked I haven't been briefed on it yet. "Gideon, you're aware of this…'Hydra'?"

Gideon nods, a smirk plastered on his face. "It's been years, right around after the War. Looking at the finished product, it will do its job well I can assure you, Mr. President."

I nod, retreating into my thoughts. A massive hoverplane built for riot suppression…This _could_ work.

"How do you plan on sending the PN-88 to New Caledonia?" I ask.

Headpeacekeeper of the Air Force General Durnford raises a hand. "Luckily we have a Hydra undergoing testing on the Hawaiian Islands as we speak."

"All we need is your go-ahead for Operation BLACKOUT to begin. Glamoure is well versed with the Hydra's systems." General Parangosky finishes.

With a sigh I recline in my chair, again staring back at the inquisitive faces that yearn for answer. _We have due cause and leverage to top it off. The other nations retaliate all the time, yet things out west are at fever pitch. Then again, if not for me, someone like Viondra could be calling the shots – Then there wouldn't be any more conflict because everyone would be **atomized**. _

"Would you like to think it over, Mr. President?" asks Gideon, ignoring the glares he earns from the rest of the staff.

I nod, taking another sip of water. "That would be most beneficial, yes."

Adjusting his glasses, a slight smile appears on his lips. "I agree. Our campaign in China isn't ending anytime soon."

Minister Dorrian raises a hand. "Erm...Remember Mr. President, time is of the essence regardless."

Assembling her documents, Aristella knocks them against the table – straightening them before placing them into a briefcase. "I'll be at the Foreign Affairs Department going over possible terms and agreements should this operation be undertaken."

"It had better be, seeing as how the National Assembly is absolutely _livid_ given our current security breaches." Viondra scoffs while she removes a cigarette from her holder and snuffs it out. "A decision needs to be made _sooner_ rather than later, Agesilaus."

Gripping the edges of my seat, all I could offer was a curt nod.

 ** _EXECUTIVE RESIDENCE, PRESIDENTIAL MANSION, 9PM_**

Cruella's weathered face lighting up at the sight of me is enough to brighten the rest of my dreary day. Securing her fluffy pink robe around her frame she saunters behind the kitchen chair I sit, planting a kiss on my cheek. I reply by brushing her hands that are currently draped over my shoulder with mine.

"Oh well, _there's_ my husband! Why'd you just up and leave like that?"

I give a grunt, swallowing my cookie and washing it down with milk. "Just some more foreign affairs issues to tend to, my love…How did Miss Faraday enjoy her tour?"

"Mhm, I just love interacting with some of the Victors. They're very articulate people! Especially Gwendolyn, I think she'll be this generations Beetee _for sure_."

"That's very good news. She's a very smart young woman…" I reply.

Noticing the despondent twang in my voice, I earn a loving caress of the cheek in response. "Rough day at the meeting today darling?"

I nod tersely. "'Rough' is an understatement, my darling. Some days I just wish Panem remained closeted to the world and its idiocy."

Sighing, Cruella eases me out of my suit jacket and loosens my necktie, passing towards an Avox as she gives her thank-you. Helping me out of the kitchen chair I sit in, she and I link arms as she gestures towards the sofa.

"Come, we can talk about it while we watch _Dragnet._ Lieutenant McKay and his platoon are planning to raid the Injun camp this episode.

Ah, _Dragnet_. I've been too preoccupied by presidential duties I've forgotten about our nightly ritual to watch the latest episodes. Apparently a spin-off of a popular show two-hundred years ago, Dragnet follows the action-packed life of Peacekeeper Lieutenant Styx McKay and his platoon of specially trained detectives as they travel across Panem to thwart and solve a multitude of crimes. As Cruella and I snuggle up on the couch, it seems that the hard-boiled lieutenant has been deployed to District 10, in order to stop a band of rouge Native Panemians from pillaging an outlying settlement.

"So," begins Cruella. "What's going on in the East Wing these days?"

" _Hmph_ , nothing's going on but _saber-rattling_ and _mud-slinging_ , my dear." I snort, massaging my temples. "It just makes me wonder where we would be as a nation if not for me and other likeminded people…"

"Is it about that China stuff?"

With a sigh, I nod. "Thames was a spy, so we had him killed. The accident at the muttation laboratory was a front."

Gasping sharply, Cruella's nails dig into my chest, past my shirt. Averting my eyes towards the television, her nails clutch my chin, turning my gaze toward her mud-brown eyes.

"Agesilaus, _why_ would you do such a thing?" Cruella scalds sharply, as she continues to shake her head in disbelief. "What about Miriam…Dionysius? He should be about seventeen now?"

"I took care of them, they'll be fine. Miriam is a tad skeptical obviously…but she knows better." I explain, caressing my wife's shoulders. "He leaked information critical our security, like muttation data and infrastructure. What if things were to escalate? It could _cripple_ the country no matter how simple the information sent."

Her features softening, Cruella nods in understanding. "I see. That, on top of the 'Gregory Brown' Affair with all those _agents_ …I _pale_ at the thought of them continuing to persist. What were you planning on doing about it all, darling?"

I return my eyes to the television. "My national security committee advised that we destroy pre-apocalypse satellites. They also found a 'radar base' on a pacific isle…They recommend nuking it to show off an example of our power."

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "From what I recall, they're environmentalists; you _can't do that_ …it would be unnecessary."

"That's what I said!" I seethe, sinking back into the sofa. "It's as if the taint from Snow still sticks to every crevice in governance. Nonetheless…I put my foot down and declined the missile option."

Laying a head on my shoulder, Cruella wraps her arms around my midsection. "What about negotiations?"

"I don't think recent developments call for negotiations…at least not right now. There's one other option that's being considered…I just feel _conflicted_ about it all. With all the stupid opinions our government makes, I'm surprised Panem has lasted as long as it has."

"I see." Cruella says evenly. "Well, if my opinion is worth any weight, I implore that you do what you must to protect this nation and the people in it."

I glance down at her, eyebrow raised as she regards me with a soft smile. "I know you and _have_ _known_ you. For you, Panem is sacred above many a thing. And if something threatens that sacred bond – that immense love – I say that you take the measures that _you_ see fit, nothing wasteful like how they did things prior. You're unlike the others, I know this. Whatever you choose will be the _right_ decision."

Resting my feet onto the coffee table in front of me, I re-adjust my shoulder around my wife's smaller frame as we continue to watch the rest of _Dragnet_ play out.

I hope she's right.


	7. Fast Pace

**CHAPTER 6 – FAST PACE**

 **Synopsis** : After counseling from various sources, President Kane has decided on a course of action. With certain actions comes conflict.

* * *

 _ **ARE YOU "IN THE KNOW!?" – YOUR NEWS THIS WEEK, JUNE 11th, 2158**_

 _ **A Panem Broadcasting Corporation Newsreel**_ * _ **MMCLVIII***_

 _ **"PRESIDENT KANE CLAMPS DOWN ON FOREIGN ESPIONAGE AMID TROOP DEPLOYMENT TO CHINA"**_

 _When pressed on possible actions to be taken against the 'bad actors' that attempted to usurp Panemian government intelligence in front of the Senate National Security Committee this past Friday, President Kane assured the bureaucrats that the problem is being dealt with and that ' **You will get your answers by the end of this weekend.'**_

 _President Kane's governance is unlike any we've seen in a long time. As an 'independent' he is by law, answerable to the ruling Nationalist Party, which dominates the courts, senate and assembly. Hypothetically, he could be voted out of office by the National Assembly at any given time. However due to Uncle Kane's immense popularity, we don't think that'll be happening any time soon!_

 _Senator Amelia Grisham - chairperson of the Senate National Security Committee, seems skeptical but is looking forward to the actions the President vows to take._

 _"The lapse of protective measures against incursions such as these is scary to say the least." She says._

 _President Kane had this to say regarding these 'infiltrations' via a Presidential Mansion address this Saturday evening. These are just **some** of his remarks:_

"Good Evening Panem. Given our nations distinct culture, speaking to you on a topic other than the Hunger Games is an unnerving but rather refreshing topic. Today, I come to you in regards of the peoples outside our borders. It is not a lie when I say that ours is a unique nation. While the remnants of our scared world have fallen to barbarism and lawlessness, Panem has risen above the rest as a beacon of law, order and good government.

Unfortunately with such a system of ours comes jealousy from those wanting to learn our secrets and use them against us. This was the case as per the dozens of foreign infiltrators you may have heard about. Some of these people may have been your neighbours and friends. Unfortunately you as were we, were deceived.

Within these past two weeks, beginning around the time of the Ninety-Fifth Hunger Games, we have deciphered undisputable evidence about the origins of these foreign actors. This includes a site in the Grand Pacific which contains offensive equipment with the sole purpose of relaying siphoned information from Panem to foreign nations.

Now, someone of you might be wondering about the information being taken and what it means for you. These nations - these nosey, capricious nations – are some of the very same regions that partook in the disasters that rocked our planet and led to the founding of our movement. These nations, like Panem, still carry the armaments capable of said disaster. Those of you that are old enough have seen the photos and newsreels of District 12, the toxic surface of District 13 and most recently, the shelling of District 4 settlements on the coast. Because of the information tendered by these foreign actors, tragedies such as those have a possibility of reaching **your** doorstep.

To give you an inkling of a potential range of said armaments. In the event of a surprise attack or conflict, these missiles have the potential to strike Districts 1,2, 3, 7, 1,10, eastern sectors of 11 as well as the Capitol.

These offensive missiles and their ranges can be delivered from **anywhere** , given the sparseness of our planet.

You all in the Districts as well as we in the Capitol know that this **cannot** stand any longer. Upon ascending to the office in which I hold, I made a promise to protect Panem and its citizens. I assure you the actions that my government is moving to enact are for the good of everyone within our nation.

Many of you may have always wondered if there is a world outside our lands. Well, there **is**. I can gladly relay to you, unfortunately, that this world is mostly an ugly and dysfunctional one. It is a world that if given the opportunity, would see to our destruction like they tried over a century ago."

 _When asked about negotiations, President Kane was adamant that it would be possible following the defensive measures prescribed to him by Panem's military brass. When asked about what interests that warrant Panemian incursion into that Grand Pacific region, the President responded with a slight shrug – only to go on and cite various issues such as rogue nuclear powers. So far, fifty Peacekeepers trained to engage foes in a foreign setting have died as a result of the ongoing conflicts in the Grand Pacific, well over a hundred have been injured._

 _Erstwhile, Panemians from coast to coast have reacted to the information with intrigue and fear – for most District-dwellers are simple folk, going about their day-to-day business as per usual. According to the Ministry of Districts' Affairs – Civil Defence Secretariat, schools across the nation have stepped up precautionary measures such as ' **Duck and cover!'** among other safety techniques. This has reached fever pitch in the Capitol, where bomb shelters can be found every other block or so! Both the federal and districtorial governments urge for calm, yearning that citizens make sure that a form of media is turned on at all times in case of emergency._

 _When asked about the speech, eighteen-year-old Lindsey Dunham of Roswell, District 10 appeared astonished._

 _"Well, golly! I sure knew there was life outside of Panem, but I didn't know how hostile it seemed! My Ma says that even though things are getting a lot better in Panem since she was my age, she'd never trade her life here for anything out there…"_

 _That seems to the consensus among many citizens, especially in the Districts. So there you have it, a question many Panemians have theorized since the founding of our nation one hundred and forty years ago have been answered. **The world outside our borders is an ugly one, count your blessings for without our Capitol – a tribute to the darkest days behind, your nation could very well be like the outside world!**_

 _It seems that many Panemians **are**_ _doing so!_ _Many would agree that things in our nation are much better than we thought, regardless of our *slight* ills!_

 _ **Well, now you know!**_

 **SOUTH LAWN - PRESIDENTIAL MANSION, CAPITOL CITY, JUNE 12 2158 (95th HG)**

 **President Agesilaus Kane:**

The East Wing, usually being a place of order and procedure, was now a twister of activity only reserved for humanitarian crises among other moments of alarm.

Staffers holding boxes, some carrying multiple at a time, chucked full of documents and memory drives rush to and fro the roundabout as they haphazardly discard the containers into waiting peacekeeper trucks. As I look out my office window now, I see row upon row of military trucks and sleek limousines, waiting to ferry both document and people alike offsite towards the outer blocks or even out of the Capitol Region itself – into Districts 1 and 2 respectively. Every five minutes or so a hoverplane would materialize into view, aiding in the shipping out of both materiel and persons.

To top it all off, the weather was absolutely dreadful. It was raining cats and dogs as they say, bouts of thunder rumbling throughout the drab gray sky only seems to add insult to injury given the operation that is about to take place and the possible repercussions it would bring to Panem's doorstep.

Even now as I leave my office, the rat race was amplified tenfold. On top of the boxes being hauled into trucks, staffers place portraits and other national treasures into steel cases – they will most likely be put into the emergency operations centre for safekeeping. The ringleader of this circus was none other than my right hand man, Gideon Montresor, typing furiously into a PiPad as a line of staffers await his approval.

"Good. Perfect. Those will go to that truck over there and you are to accompany them. Very good…Perfect, make sure the minister in charge receives that portfolio…" He mumbles.

One young man nearly tumbles over due to the immense weight he was lugging, luckily Celine – Gideon's subordinate, myself and some others are able to aid him.

"Caesar, take it easy with that!" hisses Celine.

He flashes a hesitant smile. "My apologies Miss Manafort, Mister President!"

"No problem, Caesar," I say, turning towards Gideon who continues to focus all his attention on the electronic in his hands. "How goes the relocation efforts?"

"All things considered, so far so good. Sure moving all essential executive documents away from the Capitol seems a little much, but given your decision to go ahead with 'BLACKOUT' and the possible repercussions, I'd say a little _'precautionary measures'_ wouldn't hurt anyone."

"What of the interns? The Gamemakers, the Senators, Assemblymen, the archives?"

"They're all at home, the same for the Gamemakers. Their headquarters is located underground of course so they'll be safe." Gideon answers. "The lawmakers are holed up in the northern sector mountain range. All these documents and memory cards will be shuffled to the Acropolis – The Nut, or District 1 respectively, just in case. The archives are a secure premises so the Quell Cards are safe as they will ever be. And as you ordered, all non-essential presidential staff is to be taken to the northern mountains while the majority of your cabinet will be taken to the Nut."

"Speaking of, are they there yet? What of my wife, Nina and the girls?"

"Yes," Answers Celine while securing her rain jacket around her body. "Excluding Minister Dorrian, a few select Headpeacekeepers and maybe even Gideon, all federal ministers have disembarked for District 2 half an hour ago. Vice President DeWynter and First Lady Kane alongside me and a few others are on the next hover out. Nina and the girls would be with their father in the northern sector, alongside the deputy ministers and other top-tier civil servants."

My lips twitch into a content smile. What would I do without these two, I'm not quite sure.

I clasp Gideon's shoulder, followed by Celine's. "Smashing job, the both of you."

My mousy aide Antonia Lockpetal joins the circle wearing a polka dot slicker. She seems to have come from outside, for her round eyeglasses were fogged over and her breaths comes out in visible wisps. "Mister President, we're about to leave now. I'm here to inform you as per your request."

I motion forward. "Lead the way, Miss Lockpetal."

So she does, under careful security of my guards, escort me to the South Portico where Cruella waits near the grand entranceway – just before an idle limousine. Her face floods with relief as she eyes me coming over. I accept her embrace wholeheartedly.

"I still don't know what's happening entirely…" she mumbles, breaking away and caressing her shoulder. Capitol Guardsmen, with their grey greatcoats, black sashes and peaked caps, shield us from the rain with umbrellas as a third opens the limousine door.

"Remember what we spoke about, the satellites, the tensions?" I ask as she nods. "Well, we're going through with it. The Peacekeepers are on their way to the location in the Grand Pacific as we speak…this is all just a precaution."

She lets out an annoyed sigh. "Oh dear, where am I heading to, the Acropolis?"

I nod. "Yes, to District 2 alongside Viondra and the others. Archibald and Josephina are up north with the kids."

"Agesilaus…What have you guys gotten into?"

All I could was shrug. "I couldn't be able to describe it all in detail, my dear. As I said, this operation comes with a risk. If everything goes to plan, let's say you and I go to Snow Island, hm?"

Cruella replies with an eye roll. "If everything isn't turned to glass, I just might take you up on that offer, darling."

"Until then, darling."

With a parting kiss on the cheek, Cruella, her Avox, Antonia among other staff pile into the limousine as it slowly accelerates forward. As another limousine takes its place, a slight coo of a baby followed by animalistic 'wooping' is enough to tell me who the passengers will be.

"Avox, be careful with Matilda!" Calls out my Vice President, "And make sure her head is covered from the rain, thank you very much!"

Nodding fervently, the avoxed midwife mumbles sweet nothings to the bundle of joy as she dips herself into the slightly ajar door followed by Viondra's mutated hyenas and Celine who shoots a sad smile my way. Finally, from the entrance of the South Portico appears Viondra herself, securing a checkered raincoat around her body as a leather-clad Praetorian Guard casually holds an umbrella over her. Folding my arms, I watch as she strides forward, stopping between myself and the open limousine door.

"I hope you're all right about this 'Operation BLACKOUT'…" I say with a skeptical edge. She begins to dip her head into the waiting limousine only to stop, craning it so only that her right eye was visible.

"Of course we're right." She replies casually. "All you have to do is sit back and let the Peacekeepers do all the work."

"And if this all spirals out of control, then what?" I retort.

"Then I was thinking that Monterey, District 4 would be a perfect new Capitol…much better weather too." She quips, noticing my anguished features. She lets out a scoff, waving a hand dismissively. "Relax. This operation is rather simple – extremely high risk – but simple. See you in a day or two…"

And with that, the Peacekeeper seals the door and I watch as the procession of autos make their way off the Presidential Mansion grounds. Massaging my temples, all I could do was sigh as I watch the last of the automobiles leave past the iron gates. I chose the operation with the least chance of escalation…what could possibly go wrong?

With these warpigs…just about _**everything** _could.

"President Kane, sir?" I turn to see Defence Minister Dorrian standing in the doorway. Like I, he also appears a tad stressed. His eyes carried dark circles under them, his suit jacket discarded while his tie is askew anda button or two on his shirt appears to be undone.

"The task force is assembled and awaiting your orders. All we need is well… _you_."

With yet another sigh, I motion the younger man forward as we begin our walk down the hallway towards the Situation Room.

 **TASK FORCE 1 AND 2 – PANEM GRAND PACIFIC FLEET, NEAR THE** **LOYAUTÉ ISLANDS REMNANTS – SOUTH GRAND PACIFIC, JUNE 12, 0600 hours**

 **Admiral Glamoure Hansson:**

Besides the humming and beeping of equipment alongside the hushed chatter among the aircrew on the flight deck, the PN-88/01 'Hydra' Gunship was quiet to say the least. With my hands clasped behind my back I watch the beginnings of the sun rising over the ocean horizon, the formation of ships tasked with this potential mission being thousands of feet below us.

Pivoting on the heels of my feet, I make my way to the commander's chair, easing myself onto the seat with a sigh. Regardless of spending weeks on autopilot, living off of three hours of sleep, MRE's and coffee instant, the thought of seeing this pitiful conflict come to an end gives me the jitters. I for one have had enough of the Grand Pacific…Maybe I could swap commands with a subordinate, go to Africa and turn some skiffs into splinters. I've yet to gain an African Excursion Star, so I suppose it would be worthwhile…

Until then, this will be my finest hour. Me, Glamoure Hansson, leading a task force of a dozen of Panem's finest vessels in an offensive that is sure to be on the books. If everything goes to plan, I'll be alongside the lines of _George Dewey_ or _Chester W. Nimitz._

Curious I lean over the command console, past the navigators towards the glass floor – where the task force can be seen as clear as day. In the middle of the formation lay two Coriolanus C. Snow-class nuclear powered supercarriers complemented with dozens upon dozens of hoverplanes and a Preserver-class replenishment/medical ship wedged in the middle. Around them was a hexagon of Kraken-class nuclear powered submarines, Poseidon-class destroyers a complement of Panem-class frigates and littoral combat ships. Never in my tenure have I seen such an amassing of ships after years of only expeditions and search-and-destroy missions in the Carib. Like the Peacekeeping Army and Air Force during the Mockingjay Rebellion and their rise to maturity, the Peacekeeping Navy was about to get its due cause.

Why would I want to be back on the Mainland in a conference room overseeing this metamorphosis when I can engage in it myself?!

I take a swig of my coffee, downing it to the last dreg. Regardless of the numerous combat sims, I for one was anxious to see this thing go to work. Like the Pre-Panem A-10 Thunderbolt to the PN-108 Starfighter, The PN-88 'Hydra' Gunship was modeled after a hodgepodge of airframe systems like the B-2 and AC-130. Although slower and less maneuverable than most hoverplanes, its ability to be equipped for a multitude of missions is why it currently leads this operation.

"Have Task Force Three and Four finished yet?" I ask the signals officer.

"Aye ma'am, Task Force Three and Four has packed up all units from Guangzhou and are currently making their way to Vladivostok as we speak." She replies.

I nod in affirmation. "Superb work Ensign, make sure Rear Admirals Fitch and Summerfeldt relay their status once they reach port. As for right now, we wait." I turn towards the comms station, and the holotable situated in the middle of it. "Athena?"

From the holotable appears a holographic 'avatar' of a young adult woman, dressed in ancient Greek attire akin to that of a goddess. An artificial intelligence system akin to that of 'Vi and Pax' from the Hunger Games, only now are conventional military units and affluent persons finally getting their own after twenty or so years.

"Yes Admiral Hansson?" she croons, her soft voice reminding of Vice-President DeWynter.

"Keep me updated on a potential order from the mainland on my communicuff only. Also, get in contact with and make sure Commander Langstrum has a full report prepared for the Headpeacekeeper Command."

"Aye aye, Admiral Hansson." The AI says with a curtsy before dissipating.

Reclining in my chair, my ears quirk as the audible hiss of the flight deck entrance could be heard. This is followed by giddy murmurs of both airmen and women combined. Rolling her shoulders the Victor of The Eighty-First Hunger Games; Celosia Vale of District 7 takes her place beside me, clad in an undone air force BDU wrapped around her waist – exposing her bandeau and ID discs. It takes every fiber of my being not to gawk – as someone has to be the mature one in the room.

Like many Victors, each of them aid their nation in a multitude of roles... Politicians like Serene Westenfluss of District 1, Miss Linscott-Gordon of District 11 with her capitol-tier oprhanage and Gwendolyn Faraday of District 3 and the National Archives, Celosia Vale happens to be an explorer for the Ministry of National Defence. Call it a 'thrill for adventure' on her part, the Ministry decided it would look good for morale if she would partake in this operation. I suppose it's better than wallowing with a shot of morphling in hand...

"So this is what you guys do besides fawn over the Hunger Games?" She muses, strolling around the deck inquisitively. "I gotta admit, this is pretty boss."

I ignore her insolence. "The world is a troubled place, what can we say? Now Miss Vale, if you don't want to end up in a body-bag I suggest putting on your jumpsuit in its entirety – it'll stop shrapnel."

"Fine…the breeze was good as it lasted. Besides, I don't want to ruin the uniformity here." She says, gesturing to my uniform among the various others that dot the room. "For what's supposed to be a fighting force, you guys look pretty dapper - more dapper than the guys on the mainland."

I can't help but smirk at the complement. As a flag officer, I dawn the flashy double breasted tunic with gold buttons and lining towards the neck alongside a shoulder pauldrons, bracer and leg holsters. Keeping the peace in style, we peacekeepers tend to say. Before I could voice my thanks, the flight deck is flooded with a crimson hue as an alarm blares like mad. On the holotable appears Athena once more, her once composed stature is now 'frenzied'.

"Madam Admiral, a very important message has arrived from the mainland! Please check your communicuff!" she announces, her voice matching her panicked expression.

I can't help but glance around the room at all the faces that mimic my astonishment. Swallowing, I glance down towards my wrist, activating the gauntlet and selecting the most recent message:

...

TO: Headpeacekeeper (Admiral) Glamoure HANSSON, Headpeacekeeper of the Navies, Chief of Naval Operations, Commander of the Panemian Grand Pacific Fleet **(PNGRANPACFLT)**

FROM: Headpeacekeeper (General) L. PARANGOSKY, Chairwoman of the Headpeacekeeper Council. **(CHPC)**

RE: Operation BLACKOUT

Reference No: 1574-B

1\. Amid unanimous support from your subordinates in Peacekeeper Command alongside the approval of our leader, President Agesilaus Kane, **Operation BLACKOUT** is to **commence as soon as this message is received.**

2\. Enclosed please find your ROE **(Rules Of Engagement)** in regards to this operation. All other objectives remain the same. We trust that you will carry them out with maximum effectiveness. The Peacekeeper Command, alongside various secretariats will be in constant contact with your forces throughout the duration of this skirmish.

…

So, my moment of triumph begins…

As my eyes snap upward I avoid all other eye contact, instead directing my glance towards the signaller crew.

"Lieutenant, set general quarters, NOW! Athena, I trust that you will be able to coordinate with the captains below regarding the other aspects of our operation. Get to it."

"Aye aye, Admiral!" snapping a salute the Signals Officer sounds an alarm once more, unhooking a phone from its receiver. " **This is the Hydra command and control gunship! From the direct command of Admiral Hansson, general quarters, general quarters! All ships man your battle stations!"**

Here on board the hydra, aircrew fit their persons with floatation belts while strapping themselves into their seat. I do the same, motioning for Celosia to take the seat beside me. On the holoscreen beside me appears a grid of twenty-two ships, all switching from red to green as they await further orders.

"Lieutenant, all ships are to advance full steam ahead. Advise them to begin deploying their landing crafts right now."

"Aye aye, Admiral!"

"Weapon systems operators, are you present and ready to engage?"

"Aye aye Admiral!" the airmen and women reply in unison.

"All weapons systems are loaded and await a target, ma'am." Adds the Weapons Systems Officer.

"Splendid. Pilot, begin descent to two-thousand feet. Once complete, maintain course with the task force."

"Aye aye Admiral, beginning descent to two-thousand feet as requested."

As if I were on an amusement ride, my heart lurches forward as the hoverplane begins its rapid drop in altitude. Gripping onto the arms of the chair, the feeling of descent is comparable to 'falling though the air'…It's a feeling that always unnerved me. With a few deep breaths, my body adjusts to the sudden drop.

As the fog and clouds dissipate, the flotilla of warships could be seen as clear as day. All twenty-two ships steam towards the island with one gargantuan wake trailing behind them. According to intelligence reports New Caledonia was liquidated during the disasters. Not exactly by the war, but the environmental shift that came afterward. This seems to be the case for many island nations before the disasters that rocked our planet – not just in the Grand Pacific; the Caribbean has been immensely affected. Apparently the only sizeable population on this backwater island besides isolated indigenous peoples lies in the old capital of Nouméa. Seizing the shipyards to cease the deployment of the local garrison should make for an easy task…if the locals are smart enough to stay put when everything kicks off.

All is well until two blips appear on the radar in front of me.

"Admiral, sensors indicate two blips ten kilometers out bearing…two-hundred and ninety degrees northwest and eighty-degrees southwest respectively." My Sensor Operator announces.

"Noted Warrant Officer Um…Holovision, can you tell me what we're looking at here?"

"One moment Admiral..." the HV Operator nods fervently, "Ma'am, it appears we have… two Kee Lung-class destroyers at 1 o'clock and 2 o' clock respectively. I'll blow it up for you on your holoscreen."

I let out a mew of intrigue as the over a century old destroyers appear on my holoscreen. According to Athena these ships are Pre-Panemian in design, based off the Kidd-class and converted to 'Taiwanese' specifications. Relics of their age, they had to have been commissioned at least one hundred and sixty years ago. These dinosaurs are not up-armored, straight-out-of-a-old-Wikipedia-page cruisers I've encountered closer to the Confederations home state.

"Just our luck, we seem to be dealing with rear-echelons…" I muse, earning soft laughter from my crewmen.

"Admiral, it appears we're being buzzed by the…'Tso Ying'. What are your orders?" asks my Signaller.

I reply with a casual wave of the hand. "By all means, patch them in."

The flight deck falls into silence as white noise floods the speakers. Crossing my leg over my thigh, I wait as chatter from the adversary destroyer begins to fill the deck. From the observation screen overhead the pilot's seat, I watch as the two guided-missile ships swivel sideways from forward to aft, their weapons systems aimed towards my approaching fleet.

 _"…Hello, this is Commander Leehom Wang of the Confederation Ship Tso Ying to the foreign flotilla, identify yourself!"_

With a manicured nail, I activate the intercom control on the arm of my chair. "This is Admiral Glamoure Hansson of the Panemian Navy…Don't mind us, we're just here to 'tie up loose ends'."

Audible groans could be heard as clear as day on the other end. _"There **are no** oil rigs for you to pillage! With our comms being **jammed** by one of your ships, you are very lucky the full brunt of our forces is **not** here to deter you. You are approaching Confederation territory which consists of a **civilian population**. As required by Council of Nations law, you shall not approach any further in order to avoid misjudgme-" _

"Excuse me Commander," I interject while closing that channel as I open another, this time with my two Kraken-class nuclear submarines. " _Neptune, Fontus_ …could you kindly neutralize these targets before us, time is of the essence."

It doesn't take long for the order to be carried out. From the cameras my crew and I watch as two missiles rise from out of the ocean waves and slam into each respective destroyer. Instead of a maelstrom of heat and shrapnel, the missiles envelop both warships with a net of static rendering the vessels completely immobilized – no missiles fired and no more calling for help wherever it may be. My charge Celosia watches on with astonishment across her features.

"So there is a world outside all the trees and ruins…" the District 7 Victor murmurs.

With a sigh, I swivel the command chair toward the Signaller. "Signaller, open the task force-wide comms channel please."

Without a word, the signals crew goes to work. With a final press of a button, I could view all twenty-two bridges of each ship and submarine within the combined task force on the holoscreen in front of me.

 _"All right, listen up everyone. Today, our skirmishes against this 'Confederation' in the Grand Pacific end **here** – at this… 'New Caledonia'. I, alongside Panem's highest military authority have tasked you with the conquering of this very island which serves as the home of their attempts to **surveil** us via satellite. This comes with a challenge however. **Not a drop of blood is to be spilled**. For all you flyboys and flygirls unmanned equipment is fair game, alongside EMPs to immobilize their ships from leaving port alongside any planes. Task Force One is to follow the Hydra towards the satellite station. Task Force Two is to act as a blockade for Noumea's ports and airfields. Alright, you all know what needs to be done. Now go!" _

"Pilot, elevate us to five-thousand feet, let's get this show on the road."

The Pilot cranes his head backwards and nods in acknowledgement. "Aye aye Admiral, elevating from two thousand to five thousand feet."

 **PN-88 Hydra, TASK FORCE 1, PANEM GRAND PACIFIC FLEET, NEAR THE** **LOYAUTÉ ISLANDS – SOUTH GRAND PACIFIC, JUNE 12, 0640 hours**

 **Ensign Judith Espinosa| PN-88 HV Screen Operator/ Gunner:**

We're the good guys in all this…we are.

Stifling my whimpers of nervousness I pop a piece of bubblegum into my mouth, sighing as the constant chewing relieves the pressure in my ears – popping them. The gum also helps little, giving me something to focus on when it comes to the Hydra which continues its steep descent upward to the ordered height, pushing my body against the restraint bars.

These 'Confederation' people are the bad ones. They attempted to spy on Panem. If they use that information to attack us, Panem would lose everything – I would lose everything. Everything from the beaches, to the shrimp, to Mamá and Papa would be destroyed because these savages are jealous of what we have.

Like what Admiral Hansson said, once we're done here it'll be all over and I can head back to Four and take a breather for a while. All I need to do is hold out a little bit longer….We're in a state-of-the-art hoverplane with countless missile pods and heavy cannons, what could possibly go wrong?

Just as I kiss the photo of Mamá, Papa and I and slip it back into my bandeau, Cornelius swivels his chair towards Admiral Hansson's.

"We have reached the ordered altitude, Ma'am."

"Good work Ensign, continue to circle the perimeter at fifty knots." Hansson turns to me now, her eyes boring into mine. "HV, Gunners, assume your positions."

I nod, joining the uniform response of "Aye aye, Admiral!" As I boot up my screen and watch as it begins to showcase the island below, more specifically the target area.

"HV, can you confirm that this is the target area, over?" asks the Navigator.

As quickly as my eyes could register, I take note of the scenery before me. I see five satellite dishes, alongside multiple administrative buildings and encampments such as trenches and pillboxes. Not to mention countless black blobs darting from out these buildings and across the open field – personnel.

"Affirmative Nav, this is indeed the satellite array in question, over. Erm…Gunners, be advised we have multiple personnel exiting from the largest building there, over."

"Acknowledged, I can confirm multiple personnel exiting from various structures," Says one of the Gunners. "I can also confirm the presence of anti-air and ship weaponry, requesting permission to engage?"

"Permission granted," says Admiral Hansson, "Be advised that you are to engage with tracker-jacker gas for the ground personnel ONLY. For all unoccupied weaponry, the choice is yours. Navigator, can you confirm the triangulation of the array to the satellite?"

"Affirmative, I am currently scanning the coordinates in order for one of our PN-108's to fi- sweet Panem!"

Multiple rounds of nervous murmurs bounce throughout the flight deck whilst multiple booms erupt outside, clouding the windshield with a black haze.

"Multiple enemy SAM sites are coming online, permission to en-"

I don't need to see Admiral Hansson to know that she's agitated. "YES Gunners, you're clear to engage! Use the 40mm cannons for the automatons and the 105mm gas canisters for the personnel! Buy some time for the landing craft and for the Nav as he triangulates those coordinates!"

"Aye aye Admiral, firing for effect!"

As the gunship shudders with each thump thump thump the cannons roar out, I spectate from the HV as the missile turrets below devolve into scorch marks, plumes of flames and twisted metal. The SAM's weren't the only thing not spared – pillboxes, dugouts and any other fortification facing the beach in which our ground units are to land was decimated by the power of our cannons. Switching to FLIR, I watch a mass of white people-like silhouettes flee towards the jungle as clouds of gas envelop the beachhead. This Hydra hoverplane was partly converted for riot control, so the gas should be non-lethal…

"Good shooting gunners," I say, surveying the area. "They're hightailing it into the tree line. I advise that you continue gassing the entirety of that forested area to deter a counter-attack."

"Acknowledged HV, I'll task Gunners One and Two with corralling them."

"Nav, do you have those coordinates!?" presses the Admiral. His eyes not leaving the holotable in front of him, the Navigator shoots a thumbs up towards the flag officer."Aye ma'am, I'm sending them to you now!"

Not a minute passes before the Admiral is patched in with someone I assume is a Starfighter Pilot.

"Minotaur One this is the Hydra, have the coordinates been relayed successfully?"

 _"Affirmative Admiral,"_ responds the fighter pilot. _"We've received the coordinates, standby."_

The roaring of jet engines could be heard as clear as day even from inside the flight deck. I barely turned towards the cockpit windshield as the 'A' shaped PN-108/F Starfighter, streaked upward. If it weren't for the reinforced glass encasing the flight deck, we would've been sucked out due to the hovercrafts immense speed.

 _"Okay…Minotaur One, fox three sent!"_

A slight pause fills the flight deck, only the sound of white noise filling the comms as we await confirmation. It only takes five minutes for the Pilot to report back.

 _"I have a confirmed detonation of the OPTUS, splash one."_

Amid the brief cheers, I watch as the Admiral cracks a smug smirk. "Good work, Minotaur One. You are to be commended for your actions. Return to the island, I'm sure the rest of your squadron will need your assistance. Gunners, law waste to that array."

"Aye, Aye, Admiral, switching from 105mm gas, to 105mm cannon."

One by one, I watch as each array was engulfed in a fireball. You'd think that an atom bomb went off as each individual flame joined together as one black mushroom-shaped plume.

"Direct hit, Gunners. From what I see, our main targets are neutralized." The Admiral says with a cocky air to her voice. "Nav, mark the coordinates for Nouméa on the Pilot's map. Pilot…You know what to do. Let's wrap this operation up."

"Copy ma'am, we'll be above the city in a matter of minutes. Bear with us."

From the holovision screen I watch as landing craft reach their drop zones, peacekeepers pouring out of them as they secured a beachhead. As we approached the island city, efforts seemed to fair well for the other task force. Munitions fire from the enemy below dotted the sky as our hovercrafts zoom to and fro. Their airfield was currently being accosted by our planes, EMP waves from our bombs splashed against the enemies grounded fighter planes and equipment rendering their response to our incursion limited. Before our very eyes we watch as a friendly hoverplane is shot, its propulsion drive failing as it tumbled out of the sky. For their sake, I hope the crew makes it out okay.

"Here we are Admiral, the islands largest settlement. Our elevation sits at about two-thousand feet."

Admiral Hansson lets out a mew of contentment. "Maybe our esteemed president was right about not steamrolling this island. Pummeling them into submission with non-lethal force at that makes for a satisfying show…"

As I continue to monitor the HV, the settlement looks very pristine for a besieged city. An occasional crowd of civilians dart from one building to the next as a battle rages over their heads. There seems to be no damage to any buildings, besides the occasional smoke plume from destroyed equipment or shot down planes.

"It looks like home…" murmurs Celosia Vale aloud, her eyes not leaving the holoscreen in front of her. "Not my home…but Panem in general."

She was right…If you do look hard enough, this city resembles that of one that someone would find back in District 4 or even Snow Island. The same white beaches and light blue waters…

 _No, none of that._ With a casual shake of the head, I dismiss all feelings of doubt or pity I may have. At minimum we could've struck the island with our ships or at maximum glassed it off the face of the earth with a single missile. We had to carry this attack out. If not here, than soon or later I'd be defending my home. These people are lucky we're doing so in a way that preserves their livelihoods.

"Don't get sentimental." Admiral Hansson spits, blowing a stray stand of blonde hair from her vision. "If it were up to these cutthroats, Panem would be no more. Now cut the chatter Miss Vale, we're still on mission."

Before Celosia could retort, loud beeping could be heard throughout the flight deck as Hansson swivels her seat towards the signals station.

"Signaller, a sitrep if you will…"

"Aye Aye Admiral, we're receiving multiple green lights from our various units on the ground. In fact, we have multiple transmissions coming through…if you want to hear them?"

"Patch us in, Signaller."

 _"Admiral Hansson of the Hydra, this is your executive officer of the supercarrier Coriolanus C. Snow speaking…Containment of the shipyard is successful, I repeat, the New Caledonia garrison is immobiliz-"_

 _"-Crew of the Hydra, this is Lieutenant-Colonel Gaius Moore, 1st Battalion, Panemian Expeditionary Force. We've secured a beachhead on the satellite array…I can gladly report that we have complete capitulation of the forces in this secto-"_

It isn't just them. Transmissions from multiple ships, aircrew and ground units come flooding in detailing their successes regarding their assigned tasks. It all blends together to form a cacophony of triumphant voices, cheers and applause as even the Hydra's flight deck becomes jubilant. The pilot unseals his helmet, the gunners beside me engage in a series of handshakes…Snow, and even I shed myself of my headset and place it on the control panel in front of me. As I turn around and glance at Celosia on the other hand…She just appears confused, reclined in her seat with a blank expression on her features. About what exactly, I'm not sure. Maybe after years of tilling lumber and only exploring the area around her, seeing the situation beyond her district and Panem as a whole is a little overwhelming…It was for me.

As her eyes lock with mine, I quickly flash a smile supported by a thumbs up. Her look of bewilderment quickly melts into an expression mirroring mine, as she winks at me and repeats my gesture of thumbs up.

The high spirits wane a little as Admiral Hansson rises out of her seat and saunters towards the pilot's cockpit, laying a hand on his chair.

"This should make for an interesting confrontation…" she muses.

Confused as to what she meant, I glance back at the HV. Off in the far distance, past the naval yard was a flotilla of ships approaching the besieged island.

* * *

 **THE SITUATION ROOM, PRESIDENTIAL MANSION, CAPITOL CITY, JUNE 12 2158**

 _ **President Agesilaus Kane:**_

After the anxiety of the 'impending doom' that came with this operation, the evacuation of both people and material alike to the Capitol's outer sectors, one would think that the emergency situation room of the Presidential Mansion would be a fray of nerves as well. It turns out it isn't. Nothing but silence and tension as we watch Panem's military units carry out this Operation BLACKOUT to relative success…

As per protocol, the longtable of the situation room consisted more so of holograms than real people lest the event of nuclear confrontation were to transpire. _Someone_ has to run the remnants of the nation if I were atomized. Senior officials like Viondra, Aristella and other members of cabinet, civil service and Headpeacekeepers from the Nut as far out as District 9's nuclear launch facilities were patched into this arguably historic mission. The only real people in the room were I, Gideon, Headpeacekeepers Parangosky, Frantz, Defence Minister Dorrian and other advisers and staff.

"Let me hear that one more time for confirmation. Admiral Hansson, did you say that Operation BLACKOUT was successful?" asks General Parangosky.

The Admirals hologram scratched a tad as she adjusts her seating. Like many high-ranking Peacekeepers, she boasts a look of arrogance as she crosses one leg over the other.

"Yes, I can safely say without a doubt that this operation was successful. Its only 11 o'clock in the morning...They barely know what hit them." The cocky smirk amplified tenfold when the room burst out with applause not only from the holograms, but from the persons 'off camera' as well.

"Preliminary reports confirm that at least twenty-nine hoverjets out of a complement of four-hundred and fourteen have been destroyed or damaged with a multitude of injuries for the aircrews affected. Our intelligence reports overestimated that garrison this island carries. What we usually face near say…Papua New Guinea was a much more formidable adversary than this detachment. My estimations put the number of personnel on this island to at least seventeen-hundred…half of which are under our charge as temporary detainees. The other half are probably in the northern fringes, holding out until this incursion blows over. With their ports blockaded and their airfield electro bombed, that's all they can do."

"What of the spies, Glamoure?" asks Viondra.

"The spies are fine, located on the _Preserver_ until the proper negotiations have been delegated."

"Good work, Admiral." I commend. "Hold your forces on the island until further notice."

With a casual nod, her hologram fades as return my attention to the various screens before the longtable. Numerous amphibious assault craft make their way to the shores of New Caledonia on one, Confederation troops with their hands raised in surrender and their face masked with confusion are marched off camera as Peacekeepers maintain a watchful eye over their charges on another. On the next screen, a flotilla of Confederation ships hold their position some miles away from New Caledonia itself…I myself still await the inevitable contact between our two nations once more.

"This was a masterful operation, if I may say so myself," Muses Gideon, sipping his drink whilst easing in his chair, "It makes me cringe when I think about the other options on the table."

I shrug, still silently cursing myself for being at the mercy of my military command. As per usual Gideon was right, other than a few injuries here and there I thank the gods themselves the fighting didn't escalate into something much worse. Besides, they retaliated with a missile strike on our radar facilities on the Hawaiian Islands which is sure to prove detrimental when it comes to overall early warning in that region. Not to mention another blasted incursion off the coast of 'Greenland' by the British – presumably to back up their friends after our move against their satellite.

"Tell me about the situation on the Hawaiian Islands…" I grumble, thanking the Avox who serves me a cup of tea.

"Better than it could be," responds Strategic Command General Frantz. "Sure, our radar facilities were dealt some damage, but we already have equipment on hand to ensure its return to operations shortly I assure you Mr. President."

"What about our submarines not engaged in the operation in that region, how about Anchorage? Can you assure me there are no spikes of foreign activity in that area?"

"Of course not Mr. President, no nation would be foolish enough to attack us outright. If so, I assure you Panem will be one-hundred percent ready to engage."

"I've just received further word from the Arctic Fleet," pipes up General Parangosky, "Headpeacekeeper Rear Admiral Wilson says that a British submarine was spotted three nautical miles off the coast of Nuuk, Greenland – a Panemian protectorate. They managed to damage a destroyer or two before being fended off by our ice breakers…I hope for their sake their sub doesn't sink before it makes port."

I barely stifle a scoff. I can't help but feel somewhat annoyed at 'lighthearted' mentality these people carry…I'd imagine its personalities like these why the rebellion nearly won. Military operations that could result in escalation erupting on our east and western edges of our sphere are reaching fever pitch and they treat it as if it were a sport…

"Mr. President, I just received word from Anheuser's office…" My Foreign Minister announces. Her voice riddled with uncertainty as everyone's eyes crane over to my place of sitting. "He's calling an in-person meeting in Geneva a day from now – a state visit, pomp and all - to iron things out."

"Well, I hope you all are very happy…" I say dryly, rising from my seat as their eyes continue to trail my every move.

"Hmm yes, I think we're _all_ very happy. You know, with our enemies being shown what happens when they poke the tracker-jacker nest for far too long." Viondra seethes. If only she wasn't so essential to my tenure she'd be long gone by now. "Finally having one-hundred percent of our security back does call for some jubilation."

As I glance around the room once more, I watch the faces of the various government officials before me, watching their looks of agreement in regards to my Vice President's words. If history were a tad different…where would we be?

I massage my temples. "The 'reactions'…to today's happenings are…?"

"As you would expect, Mr. President," replies Aristella. "That feeling is tenfold due to the blocking of the line between the Confederation and Panem during the duration of this operation."

Before I could groan with fatigue, Gideon raises a casual hand. "Remember sir, we have the keys. At least now this skirmishing will be behind us, as you so desire."

Folding my arms all I could do was blow out a long, labored breath. . I swore an oath before all of Panem to protect it from all enemies…I didn't swear an oath to strong-arm each and every one of them. The events that happened today, and will happen in the near future will _never_ sit right with me.


	8. Cocked Pistol

**CHAPTER 8 – COCKED PISTOL**

 **Synopsis:** Following the occupation of Confederation-run New Caledonia, President Kane and company head to Geneva, Swiss Confederation for a Council of Nations (CN) meeting. Loose ends are finally tied.

* * *

 ** _ARE YOU "IN THE KNOW!?" – YOUR NEWS THIS WEEK, JUNE 16th, 2158_**

 ** _A Panem Broadcasting Corporation Newsreel_** * ** _MMCLVIII*_**

 ** _"PRESIDENT KANE AND MEMBERS OF GOVERNMENT PREPARE TO ATTEND COUNCIL OF NATIONS MEETING AMID MILITARY INTERVENTION OF CONFEDERAITON ISLAND"_**

 _War ravages the Asian continent as PBC News confirms nuclear detonation near the Chinese (Korean-Controlled) city of Shenyang 24 hours ago amid tensions between Korean and Chinese warlords as they vie for territory._

 _Remnants of our shattered earth combat these 'rouge Chinese powers' on all fronts. South West Africa, Arabia and Khalistan to the southwest, the British, French and Russians to the northwest, not to mention Panem, Korea and the Australian Confederation to the east._

 _China a once formidable world power before the apocalypse, is now a shell of its former self, as descendants of its leadership before the disasters now spars over its fragments. Many of those fragments include the remainder of China's nuclear arsenal. Despite our many differences, the remnants of the world stage can all agree that China poses a threat to our existences._

 _…Alas, within the last 48 hours as Panem's noble Peacekeepers fought and bled to do their part in preserving our earth and our nation, it seems that we've been played for **fools**. _

_As per the frenzy at the Presidential Mansion and other federal facilities in the Government Quarter within the last two days, the President has learned that the culprits behind the massive spy ring are none other than the Australian Confederation! Rest assured fellow citizen that Panem has dealt with the persons responsible for this **egregious** act of espionage against our nation._

 _With our courageous naval forces, we swiftly moved to occupy an island on the fringes of this 'Confederation' by the name of **"New Caledonia"** destroying the satellites these foreign aliens used to contact their homeland. _

_It is because of the likes of Panem's brawn, brain and nautical know-how why this operation was successful!_

 _Look it's the spearhead of this operation itself, Admiral Glamoure Hansson, overseeing the occupation of New Caledonia now alongside one of Panem's spunkiest victor's – Celosia Vale of District 7! They seem very hard at work to ensure a smooth transition!_

 _And now amid the tension President Kane, First Lady Cruella Kane and members of his government have now arrived in Geneva, Swiss Confederation, in order to iron out the details necessary to end the conflict between the two nations of Panem and the Australian Confederation!_

 _Here they are now, the President and First Lady, as their hoverplane touches down in Geneva. Security precautions are at an all time high for all foreign dignitaries. Given the Swiss children and their parents joyously waving foreign flags as they greet each head of state, how **irrelevant**_ all this security seems.

What will come of this meeting between world powers? We can never know for certain.

 ** _Well, now you know!_**

 **GENEVA, SWISS CONFEDERATION, JUNE 16, 2158 (95thADD)**

 **President Kane:**

Switzerland has always been a peculiar fit to the jigsaw that was the world as we currently know it. How the nation held up as others spiraled into chaos multiple times throughout the centuries is beyond me. Maybe neutrality was _and is_ the way to go.

…Or maybe a having a plethora of foreign investments serve as a sturdy deterrent to nuclear fire. You wouldn't want to _vaporize_ your fortunes after all.

"Mr. President," calls a flight attendant.

" _Yes_ …" I begin, straining my eyes as I glance at the rank and name tag on the chest and shoulder of her uniform. " _Airman_ Stafford, how may I help you?"

She regards me with a warm smile. "We're ready for you to disembark now."

Rising from my desk, I make my signature gesturing motion. "Lead the way, young lady."

As we leave from my hoverplane office on our way towards the exit, I continue to glance at the city, _Geneva_. The buildings, very uniform and brutalistic reminded me very much of District 2 or even some locations in the Capitol. Like most cities of the more functional nations after the Disasters there doesn't seem to be much progress in terms of new architecture, just the same rustic buildings that have been around for what must be a _millennia_.

As we round the corner to the exit, Cruella's face lights up with light surprise and then transitions into a smile as she notices me.

"Ready, my darling?" she asks me.

I reply with small shrug. "Ready as I'll ever be…" _Not quite, but I'll manage._

"It's been oh so long since I've seen Dietrich and Erika," my wife sighs, turning towards the door as the pilot steps into the spitting rain. "Too bad the occasion isn't much of a joyous one."

Thanking the guard that hands me an umbrella, I link Cruella's arms in mine. "I share your discontent, my dear…tenfold."

As the guard motions us forward, I activate my umbrella as I stride onto the platform. The pilot having opened the exit hatch prior steps aside and snaps a salute as Cruella and I gaze out towards the welcoming party.

Lined with a red carpet leading towards my parade car and motorcade, the landing was swarmed with joyous children waving the banner of Panem, mixed in with the Swiss cross. Positioned along the way were Swiss honor guards alongside a military band playing our national anthem. Slowly, my wife and I bound down the stairs towards the welcoming dignitaries. After a presentation of flowers to Cruella and a series of handshakes, we were escorted into the parade car and whisked off to the Council of Nations Headquarters.

As we get closer and closer to our destination, my mind begins to race with the possible outcomes this meeting will bring. ' _Will this skirmish finally come to a conclusion?_ 'is one of the utmost issues that wracks my mind. The thought of finally being able to focus on _domestic_ issues instead of siphoning money towards needless conquest and _'chest-thumping'_ on the world stage is an ideal I think many of my colleagues would agree on. Given the century and a half of nuclear hellfire and geographical disaster, I doubt the situations in other nations are any better than anyone else's. Cruella must notice my anxiety, as she entwines my hand with hers. It's a gesture I welcome with open arms.

Other than the taking in of sites and gawking Swiss citizens, the trip goes on without a hitch as the Panemian delegation arrives at the Palace of Nations. The ensemble was the same as the airports – honor guards, red carpet and the press. Awaiting us as the limousine rounded the curl-de-sac was the Swiss President himself, Dietrich Anheuser and his wife Erika.

Anheuser wastes no time embracing Cruella and I with a hug and a kiss on the cheek for good measure. Regardless of all the mud that's slung between each nation and the wrongdoings we conduct, the Swiss President still carries on with us as if we were old chums meeting up after a long absence. If anything, he is the embodiment of the Swiss and their track record of neutrality.

"Agesilaus, how are you my friend?" He asks, as if my nation didn't conquer and currently occupy an island belonging to another sovereign nation.

"Not that well Dietrich…As you may know." I say lamely, earning a lopsided smile from the Swiss President. Keeping up face for the press, he with Erika by our side ushers Cruella and I up the grand steps of the Palace, where the other leaders of the remnants of earth speak to one another.

One can't help but notice the 'alliances' formed on top of those steps. Like the Careers in the Hunger Games, the likes of the Union of Sovereign States (Eurasia/Russia), Korea, South West Africa, Arabia and other states mingle on one side as the 'Outliers' the Australian Confederation, France, England, Spain and others congregate on the other side…Just like footage one would see of the training sessions. Both sides keep up pleasantries as they glance my way, but one doesn't have to be a genius to know that at least half of those smiles are as feeble as _glass_.

"That's why we're here Agesilaus," says Dietrich as we approach the landing. "I assure you that we will reach a conclusion _everyone will support._ " _That'd be nice…_

"Ah, _Seonbae_ -President Kane…Cruella- _ssi_ ," United Democratic Republic of Korea leader Ahn Sun Pok greets, embracing us with a nod. Her English is _heavily_ accented. "What a pleasure for you to join us."

"Supreme Leader Pok," I reply, "My sincere apologies regarding the nuclear strike on one of your cities."

As Cruella leaves my side to mingle with the other First Ladies a sheepish aide leans toward the Korean leader, whispering into her ear as she nods along. She turns back to me now, her face etched with irritation as she speaks her native tongue.

The aide turns to me now. "The Supreme Leader expresses her immense dissatisfaction with the likes of Panem and Australian Confederation in their attempts to apprehend Wei Feng. She demands both nations return to combat _at once_."

I frown, nodding sympathetically. "I understand. There will be plenty of time do discuss the situation inside the Palace conference room."

"Oh, there will be plenty of discussions to be had, _'Mister President'_ ,"

Turning around to meet the voice, I'm greeted by none other than Vice President Preston of the Australian Confederation. For a world leader whose nation had its territory accosted and occupied by mine, she expresses her anger well. Her eyes simmer with anger as the space between us is akin to that one would share with their beloved.

I take a step backward. "Miss Preston. Where is President Matthews?"

"President Matthews is where the rest of you _spineless_ cowards would never tread – the front lines, making sure his troops are given a proper welcome after being _detained_ by your government."

I stifle the urge to snort. Their hearts may be in the right place, but their self-righteousness knows no bounds. "You and I both know that the actions your nation took against Panem were _asking_ for this to transpire. Maybe if the Australian Confederation kept their noses out of the affairs of other nations, the occupying of your territory wouldn't be on the table."

She rolls her eyes. "Maybe so President Kane, but let it be known that the Confederation _will_ get its fair share out of these deliberations. You _will_ pay for your transgressions."

"Good afternoon, heads of state! If you could kindly amass in the middle of the landing for our official photo?" calls out an aide to President Anheuser.

I turn back to the Australian Vice President. "We'll see about that, Miss Preston. I hope that our nations will be able to see to it that our differences are solved."

Glancing over my shoulder, she lets out a snort as begins to stride to the opposite end of the steps. "Maybe, I don't see DeWynter and co. skulking around…neither do I see any _strings_ attached to your arms either."

With a sigh of my own, I greet the likes of Premier Kudratseyev of Russia and President Van de Kaamp before turning towards the camera and smiling as it's flash envelops my vision.

 **CONFERENCE ROOM, PALACE OF NATIONS – SWISS CONFEDERATION**

 ***The following is a transcript regarding the recent skirmishes involving world powers across the globe, alongside the nuclear strike of the Korean city of Shenyang and the decisions that were reached regarding these affairs. Due to the multitude of Heads of State and their aides involved with these talks, the persons speaking will be listed alongside the nation they hail from instead of a list naming the participants. A full list will be included when the summit concludes.***

 **First time speakers will be stated by rank and nation. Afterwards, it will be abbreviated for easy reading.**

 **Anheuser (President, Swiss Confed.):** Welcome everyone once again to the Council of Nations summit here in Geneva…I wish the terms in which we are meeting would be on better terms, but I hope that we can hammer out a constructive conclusion and settle down at the state dinner later this evening. I-

 **Preston (Vice President, Australian Confed.):** Listen Anheuser mate, I respect you many times more than the 'leaders' that sit in this conference room today…but I speak for Australia and the rest of the Confederation when I say that we will NOT be satisfied until Panem is brought to JUSTICE for their _bullshit_ actions against our people.

 **Aristella (Minister of Foreign Affairs, Panem):** 'Bullshit' actions…President Anheuser, with nearly _one hundred_ foreign agents within our borders sent by the AC, on top of a satellite designed to transmit information about our nation back to their leaders mind you, Panem took the necessary measures to reaffirm our sovereignty.

 ** _Preston (AC):_** Reaffirm our sovereign-…You're kidding me, right!? Heh…you _fuckin'_ Capitols and your rationale. Excuse my French…but I have a feeling many people in this room share my point of view!

 ** _[A round of 'Here, here!' floods the room, alongside fervent applause as the Australian Vice-President nods with affirmation.]_**

Spying on a despicable nation like yours is doing god's work! Who else would report the plight of the peoples of what _was_ ' _The Bastion of Freedom'_ , hm? You know if I were dealing with a 'nation' who sends their children to a televised deathmatch, I would want to _know_.

 ** _Aristella (PN):_** Gee…What are with you people and emotions? It's rationale like hers why the world is where it is today. President Anheuser, the Panemian delegation won't stand for such attacks on topics the Australians know _nothing_ about.

 **Preston (AC):** When our non-combative oil rigs are attacked and our territories literally STRIPPED of all resources to fill YOUR gluttony, we have a right to call you out on WHATEVER we please! The recent attack on New Caledonia was the last straw. Panem needs to answer for its actions. 'President' Kane seeing that you're not connected to your marionette, how about YOU step to the microphone and hash this out!

 **Agesilaus Kane (President, Panem):** Ahem, yes…Well I can say without fault in my heart that Panem will not be apologizing for the events that took place 72 hours ago. Given the faults of both sides of the conflict, I am confused as to why our actions invoke such a response seeing that _one hundred_ foreign agents were apprehended in our nation…If that isn't a form of warfare, I'm not quite sure what is.

I've said it time and time again, since everyone is so interested in every nation's internal affairs that Panem is to cease the Hunger Games after its centennial year. I'm tired of going over the same talking points ad nauseam. However, with my goal to further open up Panem to the world and to start that process I will gladly deliberate with the Australian Confederation delegation in terms of demands following the occupation of New Caledonia.

 **Anheuser (Swiss.):** …Miss Preston, your response on behalf of your Confederation? I know that Taiwan, Japan and the others are here with you as well…but erm, you seem to be the chief speaker.

 ** _[With a huff, Preston turns to her fellow delegates and deliberates with them for a brief moment.]_**

 **Preston (AC):** Panem is to repay the Australian Confederation for its destroyed space equipment, alongside all military infrastructures damaged during their attack on New Caledonia. The Australian Confederation demands that our territorial waters be expanded to halt Panemian incursions into _OUR bloody territory._ For example, Australia's economic zone will now consist of 1,538 nautical miles eastward as far out as Christmas Island and as north as all of Papua New Guinea and the remainder of what was known as Indonesia, **_nothing less._** Speaking with the other Confederation sovereign states such as Taiwan, Japan and the Philippines already have a strict territorial claim on their waters, so they are content with their current situations.

If you blokes want any ANY economic cooperation with the Australian Confederation and respective sovereign states, Panem WILL cease to host these _'Hunger Games',_ alongside their proxy aide to nations such as South West Africa and others for the sake of warfare and disfranchisement of the downtrodden peoples in their regions. We **DEMAND** OUR MEN AND WOMEN BACK! We aided Korea and you in the pushing back of that bloody Wei Feng, so cough up your end of the bargain.

 ** _Anheuser (Swiss.):_** Is that all, Miss Preston?

 ** _Preston (AC):_** That's about it, Mate. The AC isn't having anymore of this malarkey with Panem anymore.

 **Anheuser (Swiss.):** President Kane, Minister Belliard? Have you any response?

 **[Exchanging glances among each other and their aides, President Kane motions for Miss Aristella Belliard to rise.]**

 **Aristella (Panem):** Alongside the task force sent to New Caledonia to occupy the island, Panem also carries the foreign agents sent to usurp information for nefarious purposes on a medical ship. As soon as we come to an agreement in this room, we will gladly exchange the prisoners. In terms of territorial claims, Panem could care less about these new developments. Panem will **not** be paying back the Australian Confederation for damaged military property as this property was used to attack Panem for its information. However, we will gladly offer aide to injured civilians alongside any damaged civilian infrastructure during the raid on New Caledonia…we're doing so right now.

Furthermore, Panem will **not** _not_ render aide to nations in which we are in partnership with. The materials given to these nations are for the purpose of aiding their governments in the defence against the mass instability they face, in turn protecting Panemian interests more effectively.

In terms of economic partnership with the AC, Panem is _not_ interested. However, my President requests a secure, non Council of Nations communication line between the highest levels of our governments to prevent ' _miscommunication_.'

 **Anheuser (Swiss.):** My stenographer here is currently jotting down the terms for both parties to sigh officially…Unless the Australian Confederation has any further objections?

 **Preston (AC):** …No, no. The Australian Confederation supports these proposals. Panem vacates New Caledonia, the AC gains more nautical territory, alongside aide from Panem in the aftermath of their attack and a secure non-sanctioned line between our two governments in a case of emergency AND our men and women are returned to us-

 **Aristella (Panem):** Sure, whatever your heart's desire. However, Panem wants something from the AC before any of this is to come to fruition.

 ** _[The AC delegation exchange cautious glances with one another.]_**

 **Preston (AC):** Okay… and what's that?

 **Kane (Panem):** It's quite simple. In exchange for your men and women back, the young man by the name of Antipatros Andrews Thomas must be extradited back to Panemian authority. Just Mister Stevens…the other Panemians who emigrated during the civil war can remain in Australi-

 **Preston (AC):** NO, that's out of the question! Antipatros is a refugee of your horrendous regime and he shall remain in Australia.

 **Kane (Panem):** Them you can forget about your demands. Panem will continue to occupy New Caledonia and will not recognize your newfound territorial claims. If you take the island by force, then we will consider that action a form of warfare and will respond in kind…then your noble efforts of globalism will be all but mum…as much as I agree with your overall goals.

 **Preston (AC):** …Christ. We'd need to confirm a number of things as a delegation before any final decision can be made regarding 'Antipatros' Thomas…

 **Kane (Panem):** That's all Panem asks. This summit does not end today. I'll give you until this evening to make up your minds. Until then, Panem accepts your demands.

 ** _Anheuser (Swiss.):_** Wunderbar! We'll draft an official document solidifying your agreement for both delegations to sign later tonight. I'm glad we could come to a constructive conclusion.

 **Ahn Sun Pok (Supreme Leader, UDPRK- Korea):** eum ...yeoboseyo?! uli dosiui jung-gug gong-gyeog-eun eottae? Panemdo hojudo Wei Feng-i cheolpye doen geos-eul boassseubnida!

[Translate: Um...Hello?! What about the Chinese ATTACK on my city?! Panem nor Australia have seen to it that Wei Feng is ELIMINATED!]

 **Anheuser (Swiss.):** Oh yes, right. The attack on Korea…I agree Miss Pok, more action is required on behalf of the world community…Let us begin a discussion on how Wei Feng's grip on the coast can be quelled…

***END OF PANEM-AC SEGMENT***

 **FEDERAL PALACE, SWISS CONFEDERATION – JUNE 16, 2158 (95th HG)**

The stress of the day was easily washed away by this grand showing of glitz and glam. The ballroom reminded me of something one would see in the Capitol back home. With a flute of champagne in hand as I glance round the room I find it fun to glance at all the cultural garbs each nation reverted to. South West Africa with their suits adorned with leopard pelts, the Arabs with their robes and headscarves, the Koreans and Russians with their uniforms…Those from Europe or Australia follow the tuxedo model one would find just before the apocalypse, while we in the Panemian delegation followed after a more 'vintage' design.

Given the heavy-handed topics, all was well as of current. Dignitaries hailing from a plethora of nations come together and hobnob as spirit bottles pop and tasteful melodies from the stage band fill the air. Everything was quaint and balanced, just the way I prefer it. No arguing, no being on the verge of warfare…Just a couple of leaders from the remnants of the world coming together as their common folk scrape together a decent living.

Turning, I watch as my wife strolls over from the gaggle of First Ladies and their husbands. She isn't alone; Marshal Sergei Kudryavtsev of Russia escorts her. I'm not surprised my wife was roped in by his charms. He's a handsome young man, dark blue eyes, pale skin, and slicked black hair with the front end forming a curled ringlet over his forehead.

"President Kane, comrade, how are you?" He exclaims, grabbing me with a bear hug and kissing my cheeks three times. "You're wife is _exquisite!"_

Giggling, my wife chastises the Russian leader with a gentle slap of the shoulder. "Oh Agesilaus, I never knew Mister Sergei here was such a _flirt!_ He tells me that things went well at today's summit, is that true?"

I jostle my head to and fro. Besides the recommitment of Panem Peacekeepers to this quagmire of a war and the bold demands of the Australian Confederation, all things went exceptionally well…Looking on the alternative we could be waging a fourth world war.

"The expeditionary force will be back in China for the final push against Wei Feng…" I glower, nodding in affirmation as Cruella copies my expression.

"Don't vory, Russia is in fray zis time." Sergei says, "The four of us together, Panem, Korea, Russia and zose Neoliberals against those Chinese dog - unlikely allies, but forrrce to be reckoned vith. Not to mention zose Hunger Games Victors joining fight...I vonder how zey vill fare..."

Cruella turns to me now, an incredulous look about her. "Hunger Games victors, really?"

I nod. "By the plural, he means the likes of Celosia Vale and Zenobia Rivendell. It's all propaganda, my darling…my ministers think it'll do the nation good to see a Victor leading the fight outside an arena. Celosia has had experience for a couple of years now, and remember that Zenobia was a cadet since _early childhood."_

"Well, that's very exciting yet shocking news…" my wife replies, "This generation of victors are much more productive than the ones prior to the Seventy-Fifth, that's for sure."

Before I could reply, a young man in an olive uniform taps me on the shoulder. The rising sun and pointing stars on his slouched hat denotes him as an AC soldier. I can't help but notice the apprehension on his features as he meets my inquisitive gaze head on.

"My President would like a word with you now." He says flatly. Offering him a friendly smile, I gesture forward toward the balcony. "Lead the way, soldier."

He simply doesn't reply, pivoting on his heel as he turns and proceeds toward the French doors leading towards the dying light of the day. Once outside, the young soldier places a holoprojector on the cobble floor. With a clear light, the man projected is none other than President of the Australian Confederation Joseph Matthews. Dressed in fatigues as per usual, a part of me is relieved that he prefers not to mingle with the other heads of state and didn't _lead_ his nation's delegation to today's summit…if his current attitude gives me a hint. He regards me with hardened sneer, understandable given my nations attack on his territory. Swiveling on his two feet he gazes towards the sunset, his hands clasped behind his back.

"If they were able to coax you to do something like _this,_ then how will you go about fixing your nation in its _entirety_?" he says, not facing me.

"Contrary to what your spies have been saying, there is a yearn for change." I reply, taking my space beside the younger man. "Much has changed in twenty years. This isn't Snow's Panem anymore…things have changed for the _better_."

His eyes still trained towards the sunset, he shows no sign of response to my words. "Only time will tell if that change will be substantial enough. This kid, this…'Antipatros'- well, 'Andrews' now, he _bloody better_ be treated fairly when he arrives back in the Capitol."

Antipatros Andrews Thomas, a junior Gamemaker during the time of the 95th Hunger Games. Sometime during the arrival of the tributes to the opening ceremonies, Antipatros made off with sensitive information in regards to this year's Hunger Games. After the capture of the dozens of foreign Australian spies and the impending death of this years' Head Gamemaker for being a ringleader for it all, he was wise enough to flee. So, we _followed_ him and here we are now.

I return his gesture of limited response, shrugging my shoulders. "There will be hell to pay from the other lawmakers. At worse, he's avoxed or sent to a prison or even _both._ At best he could be deported to a District with his family or-" My sentence is cut off by a glare from the Australian President, his cybernetic eye flaring red as he looms over me.

"If you are as virtuous a leader as you _claim_ to be, you will pardon the boy of his 'crimes'." Matthews says lowly, his voice trembling with anger. "You and I both know he wasn't doing anything wrong but exposing your government for how nefarious they can be."

I nod. Antipatros was a young adult…he was just doing what he thought was right. An easy confiscation of his tools among other restrictions should be enough to curb any more 'wrongdoing'. "…O-Of course, you have my word."

President Matthews turns back towards the sunset now. "Good. After this, we will take out Wei Feng and go about our separate ways. Then maybe, after your affairs in Panem are sorted, we can work together to see to it that the world is a better place than it was a century prior."

I turn to him now, a small smile etched on my lips.

"I would very much like that. Until then, I wish you luck."

 **NOUMÉA, NEW CALEDONIA - 1200 Hours, JUNE 17 2158 (95th HG)**

 **Celosia Vale| Victor of the 81st Hunger Games:**

And here I thought Panem was the centre of the universe.

Slipping on my jackboots, I watch as a Peacekeeper sergeant barks orders to her subordinates while they assemble their respective gear. _Heh heh…_ all these years I spent gazing past the district boundary line wondering if there was a country just like Panem, there were _hundreds._ And just like how the Capitol was top dog over us, they were top dog out _here_ as well. Figures…

What boggles my mind first and foremost, is _who_ the bad guys are this time around?

As I secure my leather blouson over my shoulders, Admiral Glamoure Hansson saunters into the launch bay - a holographic image of a woman on her communicuff. The slender figure looked a lot like DeWynter, Kane's second-in-charge. After the women exchange a few hushed words, DeWynter cranes her head my way, smiling as her image dissipates.

As a Peacekeeper calls the room, everyone in the room excluding myself stands at attention. "Admiral on deck!"

"At ease ladies and gentlemen," she says aloud, a boastful smile spread from cheek to cheek. Like many District One'ers I've encountered, it seems that even military life hasn't chewed up her smug attitude. She cranes her head towards the upper rafters. "Athena, have our guests arrived?"

"Yes Admiral," croons a female voice over the intercom, "President Matthews and his delegation are arriving into port as we speak."

" _Good._ I suppose we should be good hosts and meet them there in _person_ ," Glamoure, turning to me now. "Miss Vale, are you ready?" Attaching a rifle to a magnetic clip on my back, I simply shrug. "Ready as I'll ever be…"

With a nod to a Peacekeeper, the soldier activates a switch. Upon activating said switch the middle of the launch bay opens up in a circular motion, a bluish force field preventing us from being sucked out into the sky. Altogether, the Admiral, myself and her squad leap out into the air – the force field from the Hydra hovercraft gently placing us down on solid ground. Like an elevator, we descend downward as the whole of the island could be seen before us. Having stopped by District 4 on numerous occasions since my victory, 'New Caledonia' took after the place to a _tee_ \- colourful buildings, shining seas… _everything._

It's stuff _like_ this that made me inquire the Capitol about joining the Expeditionary Force. Exploring the ruins of the old world, discovering fledgling societies. Being cooped up in one District all the time takes its toll...

While our feet touch the ground and the Peacekeepers form a perimeter, a giant crowd has formed in the various balconies and outer reaches of the port. They watch with intrigued looks on their faces as they mutter to one another. Hansson said that this country usurped information from Panem. It's possible that they used said information to inform their populace about Panem's happenings. Judging by the looks we're receiving, the townspeople have heard many tales.

"Is this the 'adventure' you're looking for, Celosia?" muses Hansson, adjusting her uniform while taking in the scenery around her.

"I'd rather do this than mentor, that's for sure." I quip in reply.

We don't have to wait long. A much older twin-rotor helicopter lands a little ways ahead of us. A squad of soldiers wearing camouflage pour out, forming a protective circle around a woman whose hands are clasped together, a man and…what appears to be his wife –given the way her hand his snaked around his arm. With a gentle motion of the head, the Admiral begins to stride forward as we follow. Both opposite parties meet smack-dab in the middle of the port – beside a platform in which a ship could land. The contrast was quite evident. 'Australian' camouflage versus Panemian grey – _white_ if they were on home turf.

The man and his wife stride past their guards, as Hansson motions me forward whilst she and I do the same. For a moment or two, both parties stare each other down as we take each other in. The first thing I notice about the supposed 'president' of this territory is the prosthetic arm he has. Not only that, his eye seems to be a cyber implant as well… _Hmph._

He seems to notice my cybernetic arm as well, given to me by the Capitol after my tussle with the _beefcake_ of a District 2 tribute during my Games.

"Nice arm," I gaze towards the name stenciled on his uniform, " ** _Matthews_**."

"I remember you," he says simply, nodding his head in recollection. His accent unlike anything I've heard -so _twangy._ "Your arena was a chasm of junk. As despicable as the show was…you gave your opponent a run for their money. What I find _more_ interesting, however, is why the Cappies sent _you_ out here."

"Oh you know…" I croon, my voice laced with casual snark. "I wanted t'see the world, broaden my horizons…"

"Oh yeah?" he replies, crossing his arms. "How are you likin' it so far?"

I snort. "It's _warm, I'll give you guys that."_

The lady with her hands clasped together begins to step forward, her hands now beginning to caress my cheek…then my cybernetic arm.

"Sister Nina, I don't think that's very wise," says President Matthews, his voice filled with restraint. 'Sister Nina' carries on anyway. "Poor… _Poor_ child," she soothes, her accent was unlike Matthews and his wife. It was rough, yet _loving._ If that makes sense…"I can only imagine the internal strife you deal with on a daily basis. For _shame_."

I frown, glancing at the peacekeepers around me as they shrug in confusion. She ain't wrong, but she ain't right…but I'm not gonna let some random lady tell me about myself. Clutching her hand, I gently swipe them to the side."

" _Listen_ lad-"

Hansson takes a step forward, effectively ending our conversation. "Too bad you didn't have any of those robots here with you," she trills, her voice dripped with scorn. "Maybe then taking over this island would've been _more_ of a challenge than it actually was...though I'll take this victory as payback for the _Archimedes_."

Matthews' eye flares red with supposed anger. However, a subtle grip of the shoulder from his wife is enough for him to calm. "Enough mudslinging for crying out loud, where are our men you promised?"

"Not only that," Matthews mutters, "Your military, are they off the island?"

"Aside from the supply ship that's currently dropping off the material needed to fix the damage sustained in this settlement, yes they are." Replies Hansson. "In terms of your spies… _Preserver,_ this is Hansson, you may proceed to dock."

The _Preserver_ , once located a little ways outside the dock now began to pick up speed as it swiveled from forward to aft, securing itself in place without a hitch.

"Where's Antipatros?" inquires Admiral Hansson.

Matthews waves her off. "Give me my _bloody_ men and women first, and then we'll move on."

Rolling her eyes, Hansson brings the communicuff to her mouth once more. "Bridge, bring them down ASAP; I'm _tired_ of taking care of their well being."

A moment passes before trickles of people begin to disembark from the ship…not before a press crew quickly scrambles down the platform and begins filming everything.

"Look, it's Celosia Vale and the Admiral! Film Celosia, this'll be _gold_ for the folks back home!" instructs the Capitol man as the cameras pan our way. We pay them no mind; instead we focus on the neutral space between us and the Australians while the prisoners are being unloaded. President Matthews and co. look absolutely disgusted…I can't really blame them unfortunately.

Lead by rifle-toting peacekeepers, men and women clad in grey jumpsuits make their way off the boat with their hands raised in the air. _So these were the spies the news was squawking about during the Games…_ Upon closer inspection of our prisoners, their conditions were _less_ than pleasant.

" _Jesus wept_ …" murmurs Sister Nina, her arms outstretched as she begins to make her way towards the platform.

"Bloody hell…" the Australian man bellowed, pushing past his wife as she attempted to calm him down, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MEN?!"

"' _Seph please_ , the cameras…" his wife pleads as she follows after him.

It was a legitimate question. Some of them held crutches whilst others relied on their comrades for support. A woman shields her eyes as if she's seen the sun for the first time. One of them was carried out via a _stretcher._ The unlucky man's eyes were unfocused…as if he weren't even present. The Australian President kneels down towards the man, while his wife and Sister Nina caress his cheek. Matthews turns towards the rest of his subordinates, watching as they return his looks of surprise. Silently, the Admiral, our entourage and I watch as the Australian President claps the shoulders of his men and women, some of which return weak salutes. A woman nearly faints, but is caught by a compassionate Matthews and fellow 'prisoners'.

"What. _Did you_ . _Do!_?" Matthews roars, spinning towards us. The Peacekeepers around us raise their rifles in unison, prompting Matthews' soldiers to do the same. Admiral Hansson appears bewildered, but clears her throat as her smug mask is back in place.

"…That man's condition was no one's fault but his own. The fool tried to down a poison capsule…play stupid games, win _stupid_ prizes."

Glancing at the slightly older man, he looks like he wants to rip Hansson in half. Gentle coaxing from his wife is enough to get the man to back off, instead turning his attention back to his charges. As the last man is disembarked and marched off to what appears to be a medical tent a little ways past their helicopter, Admiral Hansson checks her communicuff – a tired expression plastering her face.

"You've gotten your rats; now send over Antipatros I don't have all day." She seethes, cocking her hips to the side.

Sister Nina juts a finger towards the Admiral. "You _better_ take care of this boy."

"Don't you worry your head," Hansson trills. "Viondra was explicit in her instructions."

Matthews glances toward his wife, followed by Sister Nina who nods solemnly. Speaking into a walkie-talkie, Matthews and his entourage part ways – forming two lines as a young man emerges from the back of their helicopter. Upon seeing his silvery-hair and boyish features, I _remember_ him now from the various parties hosted throughout the Capitol. He's a junior Gamemaker, only two or so years younger than I am…twenty-six or twenty-seven.

We watch as he turns towards a girl who accompanied him out that helicopter. With a few hushed words and a kiss he proceeds down the line, shaking the hands of Matthews, his wife and Sister Nina before glancing towards the Admiral and me. Sweet Panem, he looks like a _mess_. His pale skin was clammy and contrasted badly with the sunlight. The bags under his eyes showcase the understandable lack of sleep he'd gotten. I wouldn't be able to sleep either with the threat of avoxing or being thrown in the darkest hole Panem has to offer once we head back to the mainland.

Glamoure breaks the buffer and casually strides towards the young man, her hands clasped behind her back. "Ah, Antipatros…I see you've gotten acquainted with the locals."

"My name is not Antipatros anymore…" he says in an attempt of defiance…although it comes out very meek. "It's _Andrews Thomas_ now."

"Hmph… _too_ acquainted I see." Admiral Hansson quips, regarding the boy with scorn. "Your accent, your name…how could you as a _Capitol_ get caught up with the likes of these peop-?"

"Because unlike _us_ they believe in FREEDOM!" he yells, jutting a finger towards the Australian entourage. The Panemian entourage strides forward, but Matthews and his crew remain where they are. Glamoure continues to watch the boy passively.

"While we continue to stuff our mouths and continue on in our bubbles like nothing is going on, we send kids to the slaughter year by year! Look at YOU; with your blue eyes and blonde hair, you're from District _1._ Figures, talking to you about this topic is like talking to a brick wall! Sure Kane is a good man, but there's few of him and many of people like you who will keep things going whilst putting down the people who want to do some good for our country!"

The Admiral gets in his face now, her hands still clasped behind her back as she leans toward his ear. "You have the _body_ of a Capitol but the _mind_ of a lower-district _gutter rat!_ A lot of good peacekeepers got _killed_ because of you, many more _wounded_ too. Here we are, knee deep in the frays of lesser people because of your _betrayal_."

"What are you talking about?! What does Andrews have to do with that!?" shouts a confused and angered Matthews. Admiral Hansson ignores him, proceeding to activate her communicuff as she raises it towards her mouth.

"Hydra, this is Hansson. Prepare the tractor beam, we're heading home." She says while letting out a startled cry as Antipatros spins the woman to face him. His eyes are pleading with her, as the young man clutches her shoulders. Hansson glowers at the young man as if she were being accosted by a beggar or something…

" _Please_ Admiral…leave me be. If you guys want to live your _Pleasantville_ life with your fancy cars and doo-wop, then fine by me! I for one am _tired_ of living in a privileged bubble! See that wonderful girl over there!? She's my _girlfriend_ now, much better than the _brainless_ Capitol women I've met. Look, Panem has _won_ , the OPTUS satellite and its station were reduced to rubble, no one will know about Panemian happenings unless they can bear a grainy television reception. I'm not a 'Panemian' anymore, I'm an _Australian –_ I'm _free!"_ dropping to his knees now, he clasps his hands around hers in one final attempt to reason with the naval officer.

 _"_ Please, _please_ let me be _free_. _I want_ to be free…"

Completely silent, Admiral Hansson glances toward the Australians, then to us, then back to Antipatros. As her eyes lock with mine, all I can do is shrug. The guy isn't much of a threat. Apparently he leaked this year's Games to them, so what? If Matthews knows as far back as my Hunger Games then they know the bare minimum there is to know about Panem, nothing more nothing less. If he tries anything, I'm positive the Capitol has a network they can use to get him if they wanted.

…Besides, I'm kinda _glad_ he told our story. On the other hand things are improving…Right now; the Hunger Games have been reduced to a nagging thought due to all the improvements in people's lives –besides the 95th Games of course. These people don't need to know Panem's business and they only know the bare minimum, _again_ so what?

It seems that Glamoure has reached the same conclusion, turning around to face myself and the accompanying Peacekeepers. "Okay ' _Andrews'_ , I'll set you free. I'm sure the Capitol will understand…"

Antipatros' face lights up like a child's, letting out a shocked scoff as he swivels on his knees back towards the Australian entourage. All of them seem as well very shocked and relieved – Matthews, Nina, the wife and even Antipatros' gal has tears brimming in her eyes…That is, until their faces melt into expressions of anguish.

 _What's wrong…?_ Only until I shift my eyes to Admiral Hansson do I register the bluish flash that floods my vision and the loud shriek that followed.

As I gasp, my rifle tumbles out of my hands – only to be saved by its strap. I watch as Antipatros' body slumps to the floor face first with a hole the size of a grapefruit in his head – steam wafting out of the wound. Gone was the smile of joy on the young man's face, replaced with a shocked grimace and a blank stare – blood pooling around his head. Turning to Hansson I watch as she casually cleans the brain matter from off her face, flicking it to the floor with one hand whilst her plasma revolver continues to emit smoke.

Everything else reverts to autopilot. A young woman cries out, Sister Nina raises her hand longingly towards the corpse, the Peacekeepers and I level our rifles towards the beast of a President who activates a _beam sword_ for crying out loud as he storms our way.

Before we could fire a bullet however, the tractor beam lifts us from danger. As the _Hydra_ gunship continues to raise us into its loading bay I watch while Matthews and his crew rush towards the body, the Australian man kneeling before the dead boy and glancing upward. If looks could kill, we'd be dead fifty times over.

As I glance over toward Hansson who holsters her sidearm whilst wiping her face of excess blood, I realize that the Capitol is the same on the _outside_ as it was on the _in_.


End file.
